Disclaimer : I don't own Naruto or Toaru Kagaku no Railgun/Toaru Majutsu no Index
The Trinity of Tokiwadai
Chapter One Hundred Thirty: The Raijin, Mikoto
The day after their individual encounters with the mass murderer, Salome, the Trinity met at a rooftop café in School District 19. The café was a picturesque anomaly amidst the chaos below. The three sat at a small outdoor table shaded by a parasol, their cold drinks glistening with condensation under the midday sun. The café overlooked the central plaza of the Dark Side commercial area where it was located, a place where noise reigned supreme. True to the area's character, three separate fights were underway: two friendly spars and a deadly serious duel. The plaza resounded with shouts, the clash of weapons, and the crackle of unleashed powers. None of the girls appeared particularly fazed; this level of chaos was standard fare in the Dark Side's newly repurposed recreation zone. An area that had been claimed by a group of enterprising Dark Siders who had capitalised on the District's recent decline. Seizing the opportunity, they had purchased a significant portion of the District and transformed it into a haven for the City's underworld denizens. Here, individuals from the darker corners of Academy City's society could gather and socialise with relative openness, creating a space that blended their clandestine lifestyle with a sense of community.
Naru leaned back in her chair, her sharp cerulean eyes flicking over the commotion below before returning to her drink. Her long, silky blonde hair, tied into pigtails with black ribbons, framed her youthful face. Dressed in her Tokiwadai winter uniform, the tan buttoned blazer and checkered blue skirt emphasized her petite, athletic figure, while the red ribbon bow tie added a formal touch. She swirled the ice in her glass absentmindedly, her irritation clear as she muttered under her breath, "Stupid Kamijou! Stupid Kamijou Faction! Stupid Kamisato and his ridiculous Kamisato Faction!"
Across from her, Rui-chan sipped delicately on her iced tea, fully embracing the ojou-sama persona she seemed to relish projecting. Technically, all three of them were ojou-samas and carried themselves with a certain grace, but Rui-chan always took it to an extreme. Her blue eyes glinted with amusement as she tilted her head, allowing the small white flower in her long black hair to catch the light. Her toned, hourglass figure, enhanced by her Bust Upper-enhanced C-cup bust, gave her an elegant yet approachable appearance. Sitting with impeccable posture, her Tokiwadai uniform crisp and pristine, she exuded an air of composed refinement, as though entirely unaffected by the fact they were in a Dark Sider zone where chaos lurked just beneath the surface.
Mikoto-senpai, meanwhile, perched on the edge of her chair, her chestnut eyes watching the plaza with barely concealed unease. Her short chestnut hair, held back by a small clip with two delicate flowers, stirred slightly in the breeze. Despite her tomboyish figure and lean, athletic build, the enhanced C-cup bust under her blazer lent her a touch of femininity. She tugged absently at the hem of her checkered blue skirt, a habit born from ensuring her practical shorts beneath stayed unseen, and frowned.
"This is ridiculous." Naru said at last, her voice cutting sharply through the ambient noise. Her tone was a mix of annoyance and exasperation as she crossed her arms over her blazer and leaned back in her chair with a sharp sigh. "Why are we even considered part of the Kamijou Faction? It's absurd!"
Rui-chan placed her glass down with a delicate clink, her ojou-sama façade flawless as always. Her calm, measured voice carried a faint note of resignation as she replied, "Believe me, Naru-chan, I feel the same way. But we can't change it. Like it or not, we're tied to Kamijou, and that association makes us targets."
Mikoto-senpai nodded in agreement, her chestnut eyes narrowing slightly as she spoke. "It's unfair, yes, but what's done is done. The only way to have avoided it would have been to stand aside and do nothing while Kamijou saved the City. And that wasn't an option for any of us."
Naru groaned, slumping forward and letting her forehead rest against the cool rim of her glass. "I know! I know! I just don't like it."
She lifted her head, her sharp cerulean eyes narrowing as they locked onto the brawls raging in the plaza below. The chaos of clashing powers and shouting combatants seemed to mirror her simmering frustration, and her glare carried an intensity that suggested she was mentally willing it all to quiet down. To her, the disorder below felt like a tangible representation of the turmoil she was currently enduring.
You're really too harped up on this. Kurama remarked, his tone dripping with exasperation.
Oh! Just be quiet, Kurama! Naru shot back as she clenched her fists, her frustration spilling over.
Rui-chan smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement as she regarded Naru's frustrated expression. "None of us do, Naru-chan. But it's the price we pay for doing what's right."
Naru reached for her drink with a sharp motion, her fingers gripping the glass tightly as though channeling her irritation into the cold surface. Tilting it back, she took a long sip, the icy liquid doing little to cool the frustration radiating from her stiff posture and the tense line of her shoulders.
Mikoto-senpai leaned forward, the movement deliberate as her chestnut hair shifted, catching the sunlight filtering through the café's parasol. Her sharp chestnut eyes locked onto Naru with an intensity that matched her firm expression.
"Stop crying over spilt milk." She said bluntly. "We're part of the Kamijou Faction, like it or not. Live with it! The bigger issue is Salome. She's going around attacking members of the Faction. We might be able to fend her off, but not everyone is strong enough to do the same. So, what's the plan?"
Naru exhaled heavily and placed her glass on the table with a soft thud. "Leave it to the Kamisato Faction. You mentioned they're hunting her, right? Let them handle their own rogue."
"And what if she targets one of our friends before the Kamisato Faction can deal with her? Then what?" Mikoto-senpai asked with a frown, her chestnut eyes narrowing.
Rui-chan adjusted her posture, sitting up straighter with a thoughtful expression. Her long black hair swayed slightly in the breeze as she spoke. "I'm keeping a close watch on all members of the Kamijou Faction and those affiliated with them. If Salome attacks someone who can't handle her, we'll intervene."
Mikoto-senpai groaned and shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're not taking this seriously enough."
Naru waved a hand dismissively, the motion causing her long, silky blonde pigtails to sway lightly, the black ribbons at their ends catching the breeze. "No, you're taking it too seriously, Senpai. Salome isn't really all that dangerous."
Rui-chan nodded in agreement, her blue eyes calm and steady. "On a threat scale of 1 to 10, she's probably a 4. And that's if I'm being generous."
From deep within her mind, Kurama's dry voice echoed telepathically. I'd rate her a 3 myself.
Naru offered a soft mental snort, accompanied by the faint projection of a smile in her thoughts. Rui-chan's always conservative with her ratings. She likes to be on the safe side.
A good idea, all things considered. Kurama remarked, his tone thoughtful as a faint hum of approval echoed in her mind.
Mikoto-senpai, however, wasn't amused. "That still makes her a threat!"
Naru waved her hand dismissively again, her cerulean eyes sparkling with a mix of defiance and humor. "Barely a threat."
"You're impossible." Mikoto-senpai said with a groan as she leaned back in her chair with a look of exasperation.
The noise of the bustling plaza below served as an ironic backdrop to their debate, the clash of weapons and shouts from the ongoing fights almost seeming to mirror their own clashing perspectives.
Naru smirked at Mikoto-senpai, deciding to change the subject. "Hey, Rui-chan, how about a spar one of these days? No powers, just martial arts."
"Why the sudden interest?" Rui-chan asked with a raised eyebrow, her blue eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"Salome." Naru said, leaning back in her chair with a shrug. "She's weak to martial arts, and it reminded me that I need to brush up on mine. I know you train regularly, so I figured you'd be the best partner."
Rui-chan nodded thoughtfully, a small smile playing on her lips. "Fair enough. Are you free next Saturday? I've got a session with my trainer, and he can umpire for us."
Naru perked up. "Perfect! Mind if I bring Shu-chan and Arisa-chan along? We have a date then, but I can convince them to join in on the sparring. Shu-chan will love it."
Rui-chan chuckled, her smile widening. "And Arisa-san will love it because she'll get to see you all sweaty."
Kurama's laughter echoed in Naru's mind, and she blushed, her lips curling into a shy smile. "Yeah… Arisa-chan totally would. So, is it okay if they join?"
"The more, the merrier." Rui-chan replied easily, turning to Mikoto-senpai with a pointed look.
Mikoto-senpai sighed, crossing her arms over her chest as her chestnut hair glinted under the sunlight. Her sharp eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting her frustration.
"You guys are going off topic," she grumbled, "but fine, I'll be there. I need to work on my martial arts anyway. I didn't even manage to land a hit on Salome."
As the conversation lulled, Rui-chan's gaze shifted toward the plaza below, her sharp blue eyes narrowing with a mix of focus and calm observation. She tilted her head slightly, her long black hair cascading over her shoulder, the small white flower hair clip in her hair catching the light as her expression turned thoughtful. At the same moment, Kurama's amused voice chuckled in Naru's mind, his tone teasing yet enigmatic.
Naru frowned, her sharp cerulean eyes narrowing slightly as her mind churned with the beginnings of a question. She opened her mouth to speak, her silky blonde pigtails swaying faintly as she shifted in her seat. But before she could utter a single word, Rui-chan tilted her head ever so subtly toward the chaos unfolding in the plaza below, her gaze unwavering and focused. The gesture was calm but deliberate, enough to silence any immediate inquiry as Naru instinctively followed her line of sight.
"You might get your chance sooner than expected, Mikoto-senpai." Rui-chan remarked, her voice composed yet pointed, her eyes fixed intently on something, or someone, moving through the suddenly empty plaza.
Ruiko maintained a composed demeanor as she sipped her drink, her blue eyes glinting with an air of calm that masked the intricate web of thoughts weaving through her mind. Despite the nonchalance she displayed to Mikoto-senpai and Naru-chan, she wasn't as indifferent to the threats posed by Salome or the Kamisato Faction as she let on. Behind her composed exterior, she was already working toward neutralizing at least one of those dangers.
Her expansive surveillance network offered her a direct view of the chaos unfolding elsewhere in the city. Through the myriad of digital feeds, she observed Salome launching a ferocious attack on Kamijou, only for the already precarious situation to escalate further. Kihara Yuiitsu, an unexpected and dangerous wildcard, had entered the fray, unleashing her own assault on both Salome and Kamijou, adding a volatile new dimension to the conflict. Despite the chaos the Kihara's presence introduced, it did not deter Ruiko's meticulously crafted plan.
Ruiko adjusted her position slightly, her toned, hourglass figure leaning forward just enough to make her movements seem natural. The small white flower hair clip tucked into her long black hair swayed faintly as she calculated her next steps. Her emulated Electromastery hummed quietly in the background, blending seamlessly into the electronic static of the city. It was something Mikoto-senpai likely picked up but dismissed as simply being part of Ruiko's connection to her surveillance systems.
It was, of course, but she was also using that connection for much more than simple surveillance. Through deft manipulation of the City's infrastructure, Ruiko ensured civilians were strategically placed to steer Kamijou in the desired direction. By placing innocents in the crossfire, she forced the heroic Kamijou to divert the route he took as he fled his pursuers, guiding them to the reinforced plaza in School District 19. This area, designed specifically to handle the volatile skirmishes of the Dark Side, boasted reinforced structures and strategic layouts to minimize collateral damage. Any destruction that did occur would be swiftly addressed through comprehensive insurance policies. An arrangement Ruiko had ensured was in place well in advance. She was, after all, one of the major investors in this Dark Side commercial area.
Ruiko smirked faintly, entertaining the likelihood that Kihara Yuiitsu had noticed her subtle interference but found it inconsequential. While neither Kamijou nor Salome were perceptive enough to detect her guiding hand in their battle, a Kihara was another matter entirely. Kihara Yuiitsu, with her sharp intellect and vast experience, would undoubtedly trace the interference back to her. After all, there were very few in the City with both the means and the motive to orchestrate such precise manipulation. That, however, suited Ruiko just fine. She doubted Kihara Yuiitsu would take offense at her efforts to redirect the battle to a more appropriate location. It was a practical adjustment, not a challenge.
Ruiko's thoughts shifted back to the plaza as she deftly teleported its unruly occupants into designated dunking tanks designed specifically for cooling tempers. Her emulated Move Point ability ensured the transition was seamless, leaving no room for resistance. A faint smile played on her lips as she tilted her head slightly, gesturing toward the now-cleared square below. Its emptiness provided the ideal stage for the approaching confrontation, her calm demeanour masking the precise calculations behind her actions.
"You might get your chance sooner than expected, Mikoto-senpai." Ruiko said, her tone calm but edged with anticipation. Below, the chaos she had so carefully orchestrated began to unfold, the first sparks of battle lighting up the fortified plaza.
Naru-chan and Mikoto-senpai turned sharply as the sound of frantic footsteps reached them. Kamijou Touma burst into the plaza, his spiky black hair disheveled as he sprinted forward, his determined dark eyes scanning the chaos behind him. Salome followed close behind, her petite figure darting with superhuman agility. Her mint-green hair, styled into twin buns, bounced slightly with her movements, and her translucent white raincoat fluttered wildly as she leapt into the open space, her bare feet skimming the ground. Over her shoulder swung her colorful sports bag, a sharp contrast to the chaos around her.
Hot on their heels was Kihara Yuiitsu, her crisp white lab coat billowing dramatically as she entered the chaotic plaza with calm, deliberate strides. Her narrowed amber eyes glinted with calculated focus, her every movement exuding control. Raising a hand, she commanded the five figures that followed her into the fray, their presence amplifying the tension in the air.
From her vantage point, Ruiko's sharp blue eyes widened slightly as she recognised the figures trailing behind Yuiitsu. While she had seen them through her surveillance network, seeing them in person was an entirely different experience. The eerily detailed facsimiles of the Magic Gods from True Gremlin were as unsettling as they were impressive. Their forms were painstakingly accurate, mirroring every detail described in the meticulously gathered intel on the originals. Each motion they made, each subtle expression and shift, carried an uncanny weight, as though designed to replicate not just their appearance but the overwhelming presence that had made the originals so terrifying. These weren't mere illusions or projections; they were constructs crafted with unnerving precision, their purpose as chilling as the power they emanated.
First among the constructs was the imitation Tezcatlipoca, standing tall and exuding an aura of raw, primal energy. His fierce visage was framed by dark dreadlocks that swayed with each purposeful movement, lending him an almost feral elegance. The polished black mirror that replaced his leg gleamed ominously under the ambient light, serving as a disconcerting symbol of his otherworldly power. With a swift, fluid motion, he hurled glowing spears of light that crackled with destructive energy. Each projectile sliced through the air with a resonant hum, the sound a testament to the indomitable will his image portrayed. His presence was magnetic, radiating dominance and an unmistakable sense of power that was as captivating as it was unnerving.
Beside him loomed the faux Chimera, his hulking figure a paradox of gentle appearance and terrifying strength. His calm, almost serene face was betrayed by the ferocity of his lion's mane, a stark contrast to the ram horns curling ominously from his head. A snake-like tail lashed behind him with a life of its own, its movements fluid and unpredictable as it spat jets of fire. The searing flames surged toward Kamijou and Salome in a relentless assault, each burst a display of raw, unyielding aggression. Each movement was deliberate, a chilling display of balance between deceptive calm and unrestrained ferocity.
Behind them, the imitation Nuada stood out starkly with his half-naked form and war paint tattoos etched in intricate patterns across his muscular body. These tattoos seemed to ripple as he moved, giving him an almost spectral quality that was impossible to ignore. His silver prosthetic left arm, gleaming under the afternoon sun, was more than a replacement, it was a weapon of devastating potential. From the unsettling gap between the arm and his shoulder, grotesque maggot-like white bugs writhed out, coalescing into monstrous constructs. He hurled these abominations into the fray with an unflinching calm, his composed demeanor amplifying the horror of his actions.
Following closely was the fake Proserpina, draped in an intricately detailed black Western mourning dress that exuded an air of quiet menace. Her hood and veil obscured her face, adding an unsettling air of mystery to her presence. In her hands, she clutched a handful of pomegranate seeds, each one radiating an ominous energy that she fired at Kamijou and Salome, the seeds transforming into dark, light-sucking voids as they streaked through the air. Their destructive force was both mesmerizing and terrifying, unleashed with an unsettling air of eerie elegance. The juxtaposition of her poised, almost regal demeanor and the devastating chaos she wrought was profoundly disquieting.
Lastly came the imitation Niang-Niang, her pale complexion and sharp green eyes stark against her short white China dress and flowing, baggy sleeves. Her diminutive, almost child-like appearance masked the lethal precision with which she wielded her magic. A myriad of magical weapons materialized around her - blades, spears, and other deadly constructs - hovering briefly before launching with unerring accuracy at her targets. Her lighthearted expression, almost playful in its nonchalance, clashed jarringly with the deadly devastation she unleashed, making her an enigmatic and terrifying presence.
Salome moved with desperate speed, her bare feet gliding effortlessly across the chaotic battlefield as she absorbed the spears of light from the Tezcatlipoca facsimile and the array of magical weapons unleashed by the Niang-Niang facsimile. The projectiles dissolved into shimmering particles under the influence of her magic, their energy swirling around her like a tempest. Without hesitation, she retaliated, merging the absorbed energy and converting it into her own weapons. Glowing swords, spears, and axes materialized in her hands, each one a near-perfect replica of the weapons the fake Niang-Niang had hurled at her moments before but charged with the light of the fake Tezcatlipoca's spears. With unrelenting force, she flung them back at her attackers, the air crackling with the intensity of her counterstrike.
Meanwhile, Kamijou darted around the chaotic plaza, his right hand moving with purpose as he batted away the pomegranate seed projectiles fired by the Proserpina facsimile. Each strike negated the magic behind the seeds, the sound of cracking glass echoing as the voids collapsed harmlessly. Simultaneously, he turned his attention to the grotesque constructs hurled by the Nuada facsimile, their writhing forms disintegrating on contact with his outstretched hand. Kamijou's movements were a blur of focus and determination, his efforts driven by the need to protect both himself and Salome from the relentless assault.
Mikoto-senpai shot to her feet, her chestnut eyes widening at the sight of the Niang-Niang facsimile. Her lean, athletic figure tensed, the memory of her last encounter with the real Niang-Niang clearly flashing in her mind. She hesitated, her hand trembling slightly as she prepared to intervene.
Ruiko's sharp gaze caught the flicker of hesitation in Mikoto-senpai's expression, prompting her to lean closer, her dark hair brushing lightly against her shoulder. Concern flashed in her blue eyes as she studied her teammate more intently, searching for any telltale signs of distress.
"Senpai, are you alright?" She asked, her tone soft but insistent.
Mikoto-senpai took a shaky breath, her chestnut eyes briefly closing as she forced herself to regain composure. When she spoke, her voice was steady but carried an undertone of vulnerability.
"I'm fine. It's just… unsettling. The last time I saw Niang-Niang… She skewered me." She admitted as she swallowed hard. The small, involuntary motion spoke volumes, as though she were physically pushing back the vivid memory of that harrowing encounter. Her gaze briefly flickered downward, betraying the lingering weight of the experience despite her composed demeanor.
Naru-chan scoffed lightly, the sound carrying a mix of disbelief and irritation as she crossed her arms over her blazer. Her sharp cerulean eyes flicked toward Senpai, their gaze tinged with both exasperation and a hint of concern. Though her tone was dismissive, her posture betrayed a readiness to step in if needed, reflecting her conflicted feelings.
"You got better," Naru pointed out bluntly, her long blonde pigtails swaying as she leaned back in her chair with an air of nonchalance.
It was clear that she was being dismissive of Senpai's earlier traumatic experience in an attempt to coax the [Railgun] out of her funk. Whether it was irritation at Naru-chan's flippant attitude or defensiveness over her own moment of vulnerability, Ruiko wasn't entirely sure how Senpai would respond. Considering her personality, it could go either way.
By the sharp glare Mikoto-senpai shot in Naru-chan's direction, Ruiko decided it was the former. Her chestnut eyes narrowed briefly but with piercing intensity, flashing with irritation as her expression hardened. The look conveyed not just annoyance but also the residual tension still lingering from her earlier admission. Her lean, athletic frame stayed poised, each muscle seemingly coiled for a sharp retort.
"Not all of us are regenerators, Naru." She snapped, her chestnut eyes narrowing with irritation. "Getting impaled isn't exactly something those of us who aren't can just brush off."
Ruiko intervened, her blue eyes steady as she asked again, "Are you sure you're okay, Senpai?"
Mikoto-senpai nodded, though her voice remained uneasy. "That's not the real Niang-Niang, right?"
Ruiko shook her head, her expression calm. "No, it's not. Based on what my emulated sensory abilities are reporting, these are just constructs Kihara Yuiitsu created using Sample Shoggoth, a parasitic, amorphous creature with metamorphic properties."
Senpai's shoulders relaxed slightly, though her fists remained tightly clenched as she observed the chaos unfolding in the plaza below. The Sample Shoggoth constructs unleashed a torrent of magical assaults, their devastating power amplifying the already frenzied battle. The Tezcatlipoca construct hurled spears of blazing light that shattered the ground on impact, each strike sending sparks and debris flying in all directions. The faux Chimera's snake tail lashed out violently, spitting jets of fire that arced through the air, forcing Salome and Kamijou to dart and weave with desperate agility to avoid being consumed by the flames.
Meanwhile, the Proserpina construct unleashed high-speed pomegranate seeds that exploded into orbs of impenetrable darkness upon contact. These eerie voids distorted light and sound around them before erupting with violent force, creating shockwaves that rattled the surrounding structures. Not to be outdone, the Niang-Niang facsimile conjured a relentless arsenal of magical weapons - swords, axes, and even oversized scissors - that rained down in a precise, unyielding barrage. At the same time, the fake Nuada directed his grotesque maggot-like constructs to crawl and merge into monstrous fists, their combined mass forming towering appendages that slammed down in an attempt to crush the embattled duo below.
Salome absorbed what she could with her magic, reducing the attacks to shimmering particles of energy before launching retaliatory strikes, each one aimed at the constructs. Kamijou, for his part, continued his relentless dance, using his Imagine Breaker to nullify any attack within reach, the cracking sound of shattered glass as he negated the magic behind the attacks punctuating his movements.
Watching the chaos unfold below, Naru-chan tilted her head slightly. Her sharp cerulean eyes narrowed in thought, scanning the frenetic battle as if piecing together a puzzle. The intensity of her gaze hinted at her calculating nature, even as the corners of her lips pressed into a faint, contemplative line.
"I imagine it wasn't too hard for someone with her pull to get her hands on Sample Shoggoth and modify it for her purposes," she began, her tone measured despite the tension in the air. "But how is Kihara Yuiitsu imitating the Magic Gods' magic? It's all a lot weaker, sure, but how is she using magic at all? As far as I know, she's not a Magician."
Ruiko shrugged, her long black hair swaying slightly as she shifted in her seat. The white flower in her hair caught the sunlight as she replied, "I'm not sure. This is the first time I've heard of her using magic too."
Mikoto-senpai's chestnut eyes darted toward the Niang-Niang construct below, the flicker of unease in her gaze betraying the memories that haunted her. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her voice steady but carrying an undertone of tension. Despite her efforts to project confidence, the lingering fear she struggled to suppress was evident in her tone.
"Do you have any idea at least?" Her chestnut eyes, though unsettled, reflected a desperate need to make sense of the situation.
Ruiko observed her senpai for a moment, recognizing the attempt to master her fear through understanding. She mused silently, Mikoto-senpai is trying to steady herself by focusing on logic. Can't blame her for that.
Before Ruiko could respond, Naru-chan fixed her with a sharp gaze and interjected, "You do, don't you?"
She nodded in affirmation, leaning forward with a focused expression. "I've gathered some intelligence that suggests Kihara Yuiitsu might have secured samples of the virus tied to St. Germain. It was the active ingredient in those pills they used as the catalyst to sustain the magic enabling them to maintain their shared identity."
Naru-chan frowned, her blonde pigtails swaying as she turned the idea over in her head. "Are you saying she attenuated the virus to grant herself magic? Magic that imitates what the Magic Gods of True Gremlin could do, no less? In just a few days? Is she really that capable?"
Ruiko met her gaze steadily, her blue eyes calm but resolute. "Based on her previous achievements? Absolutely. She's entirely capable of that."
The battle below raged on, an intricate dance of destruction and evasion. Kamijou, his breathing laboured, managed to neutralise the grotesque maggot fists hurled by the Nuada facsimile with a pair of precise punches delivered with his Imagine Breaker. Dust and remnants of the dissolved constructs swirled around him as he straightened, his dark eyes scanning upward. Spotting Ruiko, Naru-chan, and Mikoto observing from the rooftop, Kamijou's dark eyes flashed with exasperation as he raised his voice. "A little help here would be nice!"
Senpai froze for a heartbeat, Kamijou's plea cutting through her hesitation like a knife. Slowly, her chestnut eyes narrowed, a renewed sense of purpose sparking within their depths. Her chestnut hair shifted gently with the breeze as she clenched her fists, exuding an aura of quiet determination that seemed to anchor her resolve.
"He's right. I can't just stand here." She said, her voice steady and resolute. Her movements carried a newfound confidence, masking the fear she had wrestled with only moments before, as she strode toward the railing of the outdoor terrace to leap down into the chaos below and join the fight.
Ruiko and Naru-chan exchanged hesitant glances, their unease evident in the shared silence between them. As Mikoto-senpai stepped forward with determination, they followed, though their movements were marked by far less enthusiasm. Naru-chan adjusted the hem of her blazer with a deliberate motion, letting out an exaggerated sigh.
"I guess we're doing this." She muttered, her sharp cerulean eyes glinting with visible reluctance, betraying her frustration at the situation.
But before they could make their move, a calm and polite voice cut through the tension, stopping them in their tracks.
"Ah, Trinity, excuse me!" Kihara Yuiitsu called out, her tone unnervingly composed despite the chaos unfolding below. Her voice carried effortlessly, cutting through the din of battle as though she were addressing a casual gathering rather than a life-or-death confrontation. The trio turned toward her in unison, their sharp eyes narrowing as they locked onto the infamous Kihara.
She stood on the plaza's edge, her presence as composed as her attire. Her grey suit was immaculate despite the chaos, the fitted skirt and matching vest hinting at professionalism, while the crisp white shirt beneath added a touch of formality. Her lab coat, pristine and neatly tailored, hung over her shoulders, an academic flourish to her otherwise understated look. Straight, dark hair framed her sharp features, her amber eyes narrowing slightly as she addressed them with an almost disarming civility. Black, low-heeled shoes completed the ensemble, their practicality a testament to her no-nonsense demeanor.
She clasped her hands lightly in front of her and offered a polite smile, though her calculating gaze suggested a sharp edge behind her politeness. "I must ask you not to interfere. This little altercation is a matter between myself, Kamijou Touma, and the Kamisato Faction. I would appreciate your cooperation in this regard."
Ruiko observed as Mikoto-senpai's steps faltered, her chestnut eyes locking with Kihara Yuiitsu's. The composure and politeness in the Kihara's voice, so at odds with the chaos unfolding below, seemed to momentarily stun her senpai. The hesitation was brief, but Ruiko caught the flicker of uncertainty in her senpai's otherwise determined expression.
Beside her, Naru-chan raised an eyebrow, the irritation flickering across her sharp cerulean eyes as she glared at Kihara Yuiitsu. Despite her clear annoyance, she exhaled sharply and sank back into her chair with a dramatic huff, crossing her arms over her blazer. Her pigtails swayed slightly with the motion, emphasizing her displeasure as she muttered under her breath, her frustration palpable. "Well, since you asked so nicely."
For her part, Ruiko returned to her seat with deliberate calm, though her heart was pounding harder than she liked. Her blue eyes narrowed, focusing intently on Kihara Yuiitsu as she tried to read the woman's intent. She forced herself to appear composed, even as her mind worked quickly to assess the potential threat before them, knowing full well the danger a Kihara represented.
"This better not come back to bite us," Ruiko murmured quietly, her voice barely audible over the tension in the air.
Ruiko took a sip of her drink, the cool liquid soothing her throat as her blue eyes remained fixed on the chaos unfolding in the square below. The shouts and crashes of battle formed a dissonant backdrop to the relative calm on the rooftop. Meanwhile, Senpai's chestnut eyes widened in disbelief, darting between the intense fight below and Ruiko and Naru-chan, who had casually resumed sipping their previously discarded drinks as though oblivious to the spectacle.
"Are you two seriously just going to sit there?" She asked, incredulous.
Ruiko leaned back in her seat, her blue eyes glinting faintly with amusement. "Well, Senpai, if you want to help Kamijou, go ahead. Kihara Yuiitsu did ask us nicely not to interfere, so we're staying out of it… unless someone looks like they're actually going to die."
Naru-chan snorted beside her, her sharp cerulean eyes dancing with mischief as she toyed with the straw in her drink. "Yeah, we'll step in if it's really life-or-death. But otherwise? Nope. This is Kamijou's fight."
Mikoto-senpai groaned in frustration, her hands on her hips. "If you two are trying to play matchmaker, maybe don't do it when lives are on the line!"
Ruiko exchanged a casual shrug with Naru-chan, the two perfectly unbothered by their senpai's obvious displeasure. They shared a bemused glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them as they acknowledged that Mikoto had only grasped part of the reason they were sitting this one out. Their irritation at being dragged into yet another chaotic situation purely by association with the Kamijou Faction ran deeper than they let on. In fact, the flimsy pretense of Kihara Yuiitsu politely asking them to stay out of it was more than enough justification for their current inaction.
The real truth, though, was simpler: they were dealing with a Kihara. That alone made caution the smarter move. Husbanding their resources and keeping to the sidelines for now wasn't just about annoyance; it was strategy. Everyone knew that engaging a Kihara without preparation was inviting disaster. When faced with someone capable of unleashing unpredictable and devastating surprises, playing it safe was just the smart thing to do.
"If it works, it works," Ruiko replied, her tone deliberately even. "But shouldn't you be running off to help Kamijou instead of scolding us?"
Grumbling under her breath, Mikoto-senpai muttered, "Ugh, you two are impossible. Just sit this one out, why don't you!? Yeah, sure, let's leave everything to me as usual!"
Her chestnut hair swayed with each stride as she broke into a determined sprint, frustration etched across her features. Without missing a beat, she propelled herself over the terrace railing in a dazzling surge of Electromastery, electricity crackling around her as her form blurred briefly in motion. Moments later, arcs of her signature lightning illuminated the chaos below, her arrival unmistakably marked by the raw power she unleashed.
Naru-chan rested her chin on her hand, her long blonde pigtails swaying slightly with the movement. Her sharp cerulean eyes followed Mikoto-senpai's descent into the fray below, a flicker of amusement crossing her features. Despite her apparent disinterest, her gaze remained steady, betraying a quiet curiosity about how the battle would unfold now that their senpai had joined.
"So," she began, "why is Kihara Yuiitsu after Kamijou and Salome anyway?"
Ruiko tapped her glass thoughtfully, her gaze distant. "From what I've gathered, she's targeting the Kamisato Faction because Kamisato Kakeru is apparently responsible for severely injuring Kihara Noukan, her beloved teacher. He's in such bad shape that she had to put him into cold sleep, hoping he can be saved in the future."
Naru-chan frowned, tilting her head. "Okay, but isn't defeating Kamisato and stealing his World Rejecter enough?"
Ruiko stiffened slightly, her sharp gaze snapping to Naru-chan. "What?"
A smirk curved Naru-chan's lips as she leaned back in her seat. "Kurama sensed something about her right hand. It's similar to Kamijou's Imagine Breaker. The only other power that matches that is-"
"World Rejecter," Ruiko finished for her, her tone laced with a sigh. She crossed her arms, staring at the plaza below. "As for whether defeating Kamisato is enough for Kihara Yuiitsu, let me ask you something. If someone as precious to you as your little fox spirit was taken from you, would you settle for just dealing with the one directly responsible, or would you demand more? I know if it were me," she added, her blue eyes narrowing slightly, "I'd want vengeance on everyone who had even the slightest hand in my loss."
Naru-chan blinked, her sharp cerulean eyes softening as a moment of introspection crossed her face. The usual spark of mischief dimmed slightly, replaced by an uncharacteristic thoughtfulness. Her gaze shifted briefly to the plaza below, as if searching for answers amid the chaos.
"No, I wouldn't." She admitted, her voice quieter than usual, a touch of empathy slipping through.
"Neither would Kihara Yuiitsu," Ruiko said firmly, her blue eyes meeting Naru's with a look that carried certainty. Her words hung in the air, underscoring the danger posed by someone as single-minded as Kihara Yuiitsu.
"And she's attacking Kamijou because…" Naru-chan trailed off, raising an eyebrow as her tone invited explanation.
"The usual." Ruiko replied with a small smirk, leaning back slightly in her chair. She didn't elaborate further, as if the reasoning behind the chaos below was so obvious it didn't need stating.
Naru-chan laughed, the sound light and airy, her blonde pigtails bouncing slightly with the motion. The tension in her posture eased as her humour broke through the earlier solemnity. Her amusement carried a warmth that momentarily cut through the gravity of their conversation.
"So Salome was attacking Kamijou when Kihara Yuiitsu joined in?" She asked, amusement flickering in her tone.
Ruiko nodded, her expression calm and collected, as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. She sipped her drink casually, her composed demeanor masking the analytical mind always at work. Her poise suggested a quiet confidence in her understanding of the chaos they were observing.
"That's exactly what happened." She confirmed.
Naru-chan shook her head, mock pity crossing her face as she rested her chin in her hand. Her lips curved into a faint, sardonic smile, her posture relaxed as if she were a casual observer of a play. The exaggerated sympathy in her tone belied the glint of amusement in her eyes.
"Kamijou has the worst luck." She said, the corners of her lips quirking upward in mild amusement.
"That's hardly breaking news." Ruiko replied dryly, lifting her glass and taking a measured sip of her drink. Her calm demeanor contrasted starkly with the chaotic battle raging below. "I imagine Kihara Yuiitsu is targeting him because she knows he'd get in the way of her plans, vengeance or whatever else she's after, once he found out about them."
"So, eliminate him before he becomes a threat?" Naru-chan asked, a considering hum following her words. "And what about those other goals?"
"She's a Kihara." Ruiko reminded her blonde best friend, her tone steady and matter-of-fact. "They don't do anything without some kind of scientific angle in mind, even if it's something as petty as proving their theory correct or creating results to one-up their peers."
"True, true." Naru-chan agreed, her tone lighter now, curiosity mingling with an air of resigned inevitability. "So, what are we going to do about it?"
Ruiko gestured toward the square below, her movements unhurried and deliberate, as though the mayhem unfolding beneath them was an everyday occurrence. Her fingers traced a casual arc in the air, pointing out key points of the battle with a kind of detached interest. The clash of powers and chaos didn't seem to faze her; rather, she appeared to treat it as another spectacle to be observed and analysed, her calmness underscoring the tension between their inaction and the growing danger below.
"We watch the show." She said, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "I've been using my surveillance network to record all this for Accel and Frenda. They'll get a kick out of it."
Naru-chan chuckled, the sound light and teasing as she leaned back in her chair. "They absolutely will. Speaking of which, where are they? Your partners are usually not too far off."
"They've got their own lives too." Ruiko replied, a small smile playing at her lips as she swirled the ice in her nearly empty glass. Her tone was warm, almost wistful. "They don't always have to be with me, you know."
Naru-chan raised her hands in mock surrender, her cerulean eyes glinting with playful curiosity. "Hey, I wasn't saying they do. I was just curious if they're off on another one-on-one date without you."
Ruiko shook her head, her long black hair shifting over her shoulders as she did. "Nope. Frenda's spending time with Fremea-chan, and Accel's having Dad time with the girls. He's taking them to a shooting range."
Naru-chan burst out laughing, her pigtails bouncing with the motion. "Only your girls would think that's a great family outing. Guns and explosions? Classic."
"You're not wrong," Ruiko admitted with a fond chuckle. Her blue eyes softened briefly, a flicker of pride and affection crossing her face. "But I'm not about to ask them to change their hobbies. They wouldn't be my girls otherwise."
"What? Are you trying to prove me wrong for calling you out on being No-fun Momma back during the Daihaseisai?" Naru-chan asked, her sharp cerulean eyes glinting with mischief as a playful smile tugged at her lips.
Ruiko wanted to deny it, but that would've been a lie. That comment had indeed played a significant role in why she was so lenient about her daughters' unorthodox hobbies. Well, unorthodox for little girls anyway. Passion for guns and explosives wasn't unusual on the Dark Side, which was exactly where their family resided, no matter how much she tried to keep them distanced from it. Hence, she responded in a monotone, "No comment."
Naru-chan burst into laughter, her sharp cerulean eyes sparkling with amusement as her pigtails bounced with the movement. She leaned back in her chair, the carefree gesture contrasting sharply with the tension-filled air of the Dark Side plaza. Thoroughly entertained by Ruiko's deadpan reply, her laugh rang out like a bright note cutting through the distant sounds of the ongoing battle below.
Thankfully, the Number 2 soon showed some mercy and shifted the conversation, gesturing toward the chaos unfolding in the plaza below. Senpai, Kamijou and Salome moved frantically, scrambling to evade and defend against the unrelenting barrage of magical projectiles fired by the Magic God duplicates. Kamijou deflected as many of the varied attacks as he could with the sharp sound of his Imagine Breaker dispelling each, while Senpai worked in tandem with Salome, who absorbed the [Railgun]'s electricity along with some of the fake Niang-Niang's weapons. Using her magic, Salome fired back replicas of the latter's weapons, now crackling with raw lightning.
"You know what would make this viewing party even better?" Naru-chan asked, gesturing animatedly toward the ongoing battle.
Ruiko arched an eyebrow, her tone tinged with exasperation. "What now, Naru-chan?"
"Snacks and drinks!" Naru-chan declared with exaggerated enthusiasm, her grin widening like she'd struck gold. "If you get us a fresh round of drinks, I'll teleport somewhere and grab the popcorn, since the café doesn't sell any. Can't watch a good show without popcorn."
Ruiko rolled her eyes, exhaling in mock exasperation, but the small smile creeping onto her lips betrayed her amusement. Rising from her seat, she smoothed the hem of her checkered blue skirt and began making her way toward the café's counter, her polished steps echoing lightly on the rooftop. She'd grab a fresh round of drinks for herself and Naru-chan, her mind already running through the café's menu. Making a quick mental note, she decided to order Senpai a fresh cup too. After all, Senpai would definitely need it once she finished dealing with Kamijou and the chaos below.
"Deal." She said over her shoulder with a shake of her head, her tone carrying a mix of resignation and humor that mirrored the playful dynamic she shared with Naru-chan. The words felt as much an acknowledgment of their camaraderie as they did a good-natured concession to her friend's antics.
"But don't take too long. I don't want to miss the best parts." She added, her voice carrying a teasing lilt as she cast a quick glance at the chaos unfolding below. Her smirk widened slightly as her sharp blue eyes briefly took in the spectacle, the mix of magic and mayhem painting a scene she couldn't help but find morbidly fascinating.
Mikoto leapt from the terrace, her chestnut hair catching the sunlight as it streamed behind her in fluid waves. With a fierce spark igniting in her chestnut colored eyes, she channeled her Electromastery, propelling herself like a lightning bolt toward Kihara Yuiitsu. If she could take the scientist down, Mikoto was certain the fight would be over. Yet, the Kihara remained unnervingly composed, her grey suit and pristine lab coat unruffled, while her narrowed amber eyes gleamed with cold calculation, betraying her readiness for the incoming attack.
Before Mikoto could close the distance to her target, the faux Chimera materialised in her path with a speed that defied its towering frame. The creature's tall, blond figure radiated an unsettling mix of gentleness and menace, its lion's mane-like fur catching the light in soft tufts, while curved ram horns jutted sharply from its head. Despite its almost human face, the snake tail coiled behind it broke any illusion of normalcy, its scaled surface glinting ominously. The serpent's head reared, hissing with a sinister intensity before unleashing a jet of searing flames directly at her.
Reacting instantly, Mikoto released a crackling bolt of lightning that launched her sideways, narrowly avoiding the fiery blast. The momentum sent her skidding across the plaza, her shorts-clad legs bending to steady her landing as her checkered blue skirt flared around her in a whirl. She came to a halt beside Kamijou Touma, her lean, athletic frame exuding a natural grace that contrasted with the sheer intensity of the moment. Despite the rough landing, Mikoto's unwavering determination shone through, a feminine strength underscoring her agile form.
"Thanks for the assist!" Kamijou said, his spiky black hair giving him his trademark slightly rebellious charm. His sharp, dark eyes flicked toward her. "Are Namikaze-san and Saten-san helping too?"
"No," Mikoto replied sharply, her voice tinged with exasperation as she summoned a surge of electricity. The crackling energy exploded from her outstretched hand, obliterating a massive, squirming fist of maggots conjured by the imitation Nuada. The grotesque construct dissolved into ash, leaving only faint, acrid wisps in its wake. "They're throwing a tantrum about being dragged into your mess."
Even as they talked, Kamijou lifted his right hand with a mixture of weariness and unyielding resolve, the Imagine Breaker ready to confront the oncoming supernatural assault. The veiled Proserpina facsimile, cloaked in an oppressive black mourning gown, had cunningly launched her pomegranate seed projectiles in a calculated bid to exploit the cover of the earlier giant maggot fist. As Mikoto's burst of electricity reduced the grotesque construct to ash, the seeds streaked forward, their warped trails bending light and reality in a sinister, almost hypnotic display. Each projectile brimmed with ominous chaotic darkness meant to blindside them. Yet, Kamijou acted swiftly, his Imagine Breaker nullifying the attack as the eerie projectiles fizzled into harmless voids upon contact. His sharp, dark eyes remained unwavering, fully focused on countering the layered threat, as he instinctively stepped to shield Mikoto.
"Can't blame them." He muttered, his tone low and tinged with fatigue as he raised his right hand once again. Kamijou groaned under the strain, but his movements remained swift and decisive as he used his Imagine Breaker to nullify a barrage of spears of light hurled by the dreadlocked Tezcatlipoca imitation. The shimmering projectiles, glowing with an eerie brilliance, disintegrated into harmless particles upon contact with his right hand, leaving faint traces of light fading into the air. He shifted slightly, his dark eyes sharp despite his weariness, and added with a wry, almost self-deprecating tone. "I'd hate being dragged into other people's problems too."
Mikoto channeled her Electromastery, summoning a storm of crackling lightning that streaked through the air with blinding intensity. The jagged bolts arced toward the group of fake Magic Gods, intent on overwhelming them with sheer destructive force. However, the imitation Nuada reacted with calculated precision. From the silver stump of his arm, a mass of writhing, pale maggots poured forth, squirming grotesquely as they coalesced into a towering, undulating wall. The barrier absorbed the brunt of Mikoto's attack, shielding Nuada, his peers, and their master behind its pulsating, sickly-white surface, while the faint stench of decay hung in the air.
"That they refused to help you is entirely your fault." She said sharply, her voice slicing through the chaos with unrelenting precision. "You're always butting into other people's problems and pulling them into your so-called Kamijou Faction along the way. It was only a matter of time before someone had enough of it."
Salome darted in front of them with an effortless grace, her bare feet barely touching the ground as though she were skating on air. Her translucent raincoat fluttered behind her, its ruffled cuffs catching the light with every motion, while her twin buns of mint-green hair bobbed like playful halos. Without breaking stride, she intercepted a barrage of magical weapons conjured by the imitation Niang-Niang. The pale, green-eyed facsimile flung the armory of swords, spears, and other projectiles with a telekinetic flourish, their metallic gleam a stark contrast to the eerie white fabric of her dress. Salome absorbed the assault with casual ease, the weapons dissolving into shimmering particles. Grinning cheekily, her violet eyes sparkled with amusement as she threw a glance over her shoulder.
"Would you quit chatting already?" She called, her tone light but chiding. "You've got more important things to do in a fight, don'tcha think?"
"Stuff it!" Mikoto shot back, her amber eyes igniting with a fiery spark as arcs of electricity crackled around her.
Without hesitation, she unleashed a concentrated bolt of lightning aimed squarely at the mass murderer. The electrified surge illuminated the battlefield in a brilliant flash, but before it could reach its target, Salome stepped forward with a mischievous giggle. The petite girl absorbed the bolt effortlessly, her raincoat shimmering as the energy melded with the remnants of the magical weapons she had just taken in. The air around her seemed to hum with accumulated power, and her grin widened, playful and slightly wicked.
"Let's see how they like this." She said, her voice lilting as she raised her hand. In an instant, she transformed the combined energy into shimmering replicas of Niang-Niang's weapons, now crackling with Mikoto's electricity. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the enhanced projectiles streaking toward the cluster of enemies. The weapons struck with devastating force, a dazzling combination of magic and electricity, as Salome's laughter echoed amidst the chaos.
"Not bad, don'tcha think?" Salome quipped, her violet eyes sparkling with mischief as she cast a playful wink in Mikoto's direction. Her translucent raincoat fluttered slightly in the lingering currents of energy from her attack.
"Yeah, but it still wasn't enough." Mikoto replied, her chestnut hair shifting as she nodded toward the Magic Gods. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of the dome of writhing maggots that had absorbed Salome's attack.
Salome clasped her hands together, her expression a picture of mock indignation. "Wah~! That's not fair, don'tcha think?"
Kamijou Touma dashed forward, his spiky black hair slightly tousled and dusted with debris from the whirlwind of battle, giving him an even more rugged appearance. His dark eyes glinted with a mixture of frustration and determination, their sharp focus betraying the weight of the chaos surrounding him. Each stride was purposeful, his movements driven by a relentless resolve to stand against the overwhelming odds
"Stop whining and keep fighting!" He barked, his voice cutting through the cacophony of the battlefield with an authoritative edge. Kamijou swung his right hand with practiced precision, the Imagine Breaker effortlessly nullifying the barrage of supernatural attacks aimed at them. The spears of light from the dreadlocked Tezcatlipoca facsimile shattered into harmless shards of dissipating energy as they met his touch, their deadly brilliance extinguished. Simultaneously, he swiped through the pomegranate seed projectiles launched by the veiled Proserpina imitation, each orb of warped light and dark energy vanishing into nothingness.
"Exactly!" Mikoto agreed, her tone sharp. Sparks of electricity danced along her lean frame as she stretched out her hand, using her Electromastery to pull iron sand from the surrounding debris. The grains coalesced into a swirling cyclone, dark and foreboding as it roared toward the fake Magic Gods.
The imitation Nuada moved swiftly, conjuring a massive sphere of maggots and launching it like a cannonball into Mikoto's iron sand twister. The maggots were shredded instantly, dissolving into nothingness as the cyclone ground them to dust. The fake Niang-Niang followed up, unleashing a barrage of magical weapons from her dress's sleeves. However, before they could reach their target, Salome absorbed them with her magic.
"Keep it up!" Mikoto urged, even as the fake Tezcatlipoca and imitation Proserpina countered, firing their light lances and pomegranate seed projectiles. The combined attack dispelled the iron sand cyclone with an explosive burst of energy.
Though Mikoto's attack had been neutralized, it had achieved its intended purpose. The fake Magic Gods were sufficiently distracted, their focus splintered long enough for Kamijou to close the distance. He became a blur of motion, his spiky black hair catching the light as he dodged and weaved through the imitations with uncanny agility. Each step brought him closer to their creator, his determined dark eyes fixed on Kihara Yuiitsu as he pushed forward with unwavering resolve.
The Kihara stood at the edge of the battlefield, her calm, calculating gaze sweeping over the chaos with an air of detached amusement. Her sharp amber eyes lingered on Kamijou Touma as he closed the distance toward her, his relentless determination almost palpable. A faint smirk tugged at the corners of her lips, a mixture of contempt and intrigue playing across her otherwise composed features. Without haste, she reached beneath the pristine white of her lab coat, revealing a sleek black handgun from a concealed holster. The weapon gleamed under the erratic flashes of light from the ongoing conflict, its polished surface a stark contrast to the bloodied and dusty surroundings. With deliberate precision, Kihara raised the handgun, her steady hands betraying no hesitation as she aligned the sight squarely on Kamijou. The smirk deepened, her voice low and laced with mockery.
"Did you honestly think I wouldn't have a counter for you?" She taunted. "If Saten-san could manage it, what more a Kihara?"
"Fukou da~!" Kamijou shouted, his voice tinged with desperation as he ducked and dodged the shots. His reflexes, honed by countless near-death encounters, combined with a streak of sheer survival instinct, kept him just ahead of the bullets. Salome, grinning widely, added to the chaos by firing bolts of magic, imbued with the energy from Niang-Niang's weapons, toward the false Magic Gods, providing Kamijou with much-needed cover.
"But you know what?" Kihara Yuiitsu asked with a smirk, reloading her gun with a practiced motion before casting a sharp glance at Mikoto. "I think there are a few too many people in this fight."
"What-" Mikoto began, her amber eyes narrowing in confusion. Her words were abruptly cut off as the ground beneath her feet erupted in a violent explosion. From the debris shot a slimy, writhing mass - a piece of the Sample Shoggoth under Kihara Yuiitsu's command. The grotesque substance moved with a terrifying, unnatural speed, its gelatinous tendrils writhing as if alive.
Mikoto barely had time to react. Her sharp instincts kicked in as she summoned her Electromastery, enveloping herself in a dense electromagnetic field. The shimmering barrier of energy materialised around her figure, forming an Ion Sheath, a makeshift armour composed of negatively charged electrons. This specialised application of Electromastery had been developed through collaborative discussions between the scientists of her Power Development Team and those working with Hokaze Junko, the second in command of Shokuhou Misaki's Faction at Tokiwadai. The technique had originally been developed by the Level 4 as an application of her Rampage Dress Esper ability, but by adapting its principles, Mikoto had successfully incorporated it into her own skill set.
The charged sheath had barely formed around her, crackling faintly as it shimmered with energy, but that was all she managed before the Sample Shoggoth surged forward with relentless speed. Its writhing mass coalesced into a massive, sinewy fist that hurtled toward her with overwhelming force. The blow connected, and despite the protective field around her, the impact sent Mikoto hurtling through the air. Her slender frame twisted mid-flight, the energy of her Ion Sheath flickering as it absorbed much of the blow, though the sheer force behind the attack left her breathless.
Mikoto's lean, athletic frame flew through the air, her chestnut hair whipping wildly around her face as she twisted, desperately trying to regain control. Disoriented, her chestnut eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of Naru and Ruiko still seated at their table on the terrace of the café overlooking the plaza. Instead of concern, they grinned and waved cheekily at her, their casual behaviour an almost absurd contrast to the chaos unfolding around them.
"Help, you idiots!" Mikoto shouted, her voice a mixture of frustration and disbelief.
The momentary distraction left her unable to summon her Electromastery in time to slow her descent. The ground rushed up at an alarming speed, the cold wind whipping around her as her chestnut hair flew wildly. With no time to fully adjust her position, she focused all her energy into thickening the Ion Sheath that surrounded her, the electromagnetic armour crackling with intensified energy as she braced for the inevitable impact.
She smashed through the roof of a building with a deafening crash. Metal beams groaned and twisted under the force of her collision, and fragments of the roof collapsed around her in a cacophony of screeching and snapping. Her body tore through multiple layers of insulation and industrial materials, sending shards of ice, broken pipes, and debris raining down in her wake.
Mikoto finally skidded to a stop across the cold, hard floor of what appeared to be a large refrigerated warehouse. Her body, though protected by her Ion Sheath, trembled slightly as the adrenaline coursing through her veins began to subside. She pushed herself to her feet, her breaths visible in the frosty air. The chill of the warehouse seeped through her Tokiwadai uniform, the prickle of cold on her skin heightened by the fading flickers of her electromagnetic armour.
Around her lay the aftermath of her abrupt arrival. Shards of ice sparkled under the dim industrial lights, mingling with broken machinery and fragments of the roof she had obliterated on her way down. Twisted pipes jutted out from the walls at odd angles, dripping water that froze instantly upon hitting the icy floor, creating jagged, crystalline patterns. The destruction painted a scene of chaos and devastation, the once-pristine facility now marred by her unintentional crash landing. The cold air clung to her, pricking at her skin and creating faint clouds with every exhaled breath, amplifying the unnerving stillness of her surroundings.
Mikoto straightened herself, her muscles tensing as her sharp chestnut gaze swept across the dimly lit space. The frosted interior, illuminated by flickering overhead lights, wasn't what it seemed. Beyond the debris and ruined machinery, a shadowed silhouette loomed in the center of the room. Her breath hitched as she took in the sight.
Her first thought was that it was a person. However, she quickly realised that it was not; it was a machine. Emerging from the gloom, partially concealed by drifting frost and hanging shadows, stood an enormous, heavily armoured combat Powered Suit. Its sleek, metallic surface glinted faintly in the dim light, the edges of its form outlined with the menacing shapes of weaponry. Mounted along its arms and shoulders was an array of armaments: missile pods, railguns, a high-powered energy emitter, and a saw-toothed chainsaw large enough to carve through a tank, all seamlessly integrated into a sleek and ominous frame. Its polished black surface gleamed faintly in the icy light, exuding an aura of raw, destructive potential.
Mikoto's breath fogged in the frigid air as realization dawned. This wasn't just a hidden cache of weapons: it was the Anti-Art Attachment, a whispered legend in Academy City's Dark Side. Designed as a weapon of last resort, it was not only an entire arsenal in and of itself but also housed a black box of secret technologies. These technologies were said to enable it to rival, and possibly surpass, the power of the strongest Level 5s, positioning it as Academy City's ultimate countermeasure against magic. The hollow core of the Powered Suit loomed like an open maw, its interior designed with cold, utilitarian precision. The space where the wearer would step in, surrounded by a network of wires, sensors, and control mechanisms, seemed to beckon ominously.
As if responding to her presence, the Powered Suit emitted a low, resonant hum, its massive, armoured frame shifting with unnervingly smooth mechanical precision. The faint flicker of a light above its core grew into a steady, ominous glow, casting long, distorted shadows across the frozen interior of the hidden hangar. Mikoto stood her ground, her chestnut hair catching the faint illumination as she stared down the imposing figure. Slowly, the machine reared up, its weaponized limbs moving fluidly, like a predator sizing up its prey. The faint whir of its sensors pivoting filled the silence, locking onto her with chilling focus, as though appraising her readiness to step into the space at its core, the ominous cradle designed to bind the wearer to the Anti-Art Attachment and transform them into its living weapon.
Her fists clenched reflexively, electricity sparking faintly at her fingertips. The icy air tingled as the static around her built, the electromagnetic charge thickening with each passing second. Mikoto's chestnut eyes narrowed as the towering Suit loomed over her, an unspoken judgment in its eerie stillness.
Before she could decide whether to confront the machine or consider using it as a weapon against Kihara Yuiitsu, the hangar was suddenly bathed in a blinding, electric-blue flash. The air crackled violently as an overwhelming surge of lightning coalesced beside her, forcing her to shield her face with her arm. The energy pulsed, thick and palpable, before condensing into a tangible form.
From the searing brightness emerged Worochi-no-Aramasa (蛇之麁正, Rough and True Blade of the Serpent), its presence immediately commanding. The weapon's golden blade gleamed with a segmented design, its intricate craftsmanship exuding both ancient splendour and lethal intent. The segments pulsed faintly, alive with their own electrical charge, giving the blade an otherworldly aura.
The hilt, wrapped in silver-toned material, was both elegant and functional, offering a sturdy grip while maintaining the blade's ceremonial allure. The crossguard balanced the ornate craftsmanship with a practicality befitting a weapon of destruction. The faint hum of the blade resonated with the crackling energy in the air, creating a harmony of raw power that demanded attention.
Mikoto's breath hitched as the blade hovered momentarily, its weightless presence radiating authority. The weapon was a stark contrast to the mechanical menace of the Powered Suit, yet its aura was no less overwhelming. Her fingers twitched, instinctively drawn to the hilt, as if the blade itself was issuing an invitation, or a challenge.
Without warning, Worochi-no-Aramasa shot forward, its golden blade slicing through the air with unerring precision before slamming into Mikoto's chest, the hilt striking her squarely on her breast, just over her heart. The force of the impact drove the air from her lungs, leaving her gasping as a sharp jolt of pain radiated through her torso. It wasn't incapacitating, feeling more like a reprimanding rap on the knuckles than a full-blown attack, but it was enough to make her wince. Her chestnut eyes widened in shock as she staggered back, struggling to catch her breath.
I am so glad for my expanded bust right now. If it weren't for that extra cushion, that blow would've really hurt, Mikoto thought as she clutched the hilt instinctively. Her free hand absently moved to the spot where the hilt had struck her, rubbing it gingerly as the pain began to fade. A small, almost wry smile tugged at her lips despite herself, the absurdity of the thought momentarily cutting through the tension of the moment.
The sword, as if sensing her distraction, straightened itself, the flat of its blade pressing firmly against her chest. The gesture was steady and deliberate, almost like a reminder. The lingering pain melted away, replaced by a pulsing resonance that surged through her, warm and electric, as though the blade was speaking to her in its own silent language. It felt less like a weapon and more like an extension of herself, a bond reaffirmed in a moment of clarity.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt, holding onto it with a reverence she couldn't quite explain. The weight of the blade felt grounding and steadying her in a way that went beyond the physical. A thought nagged at her mind that the sword wasn't simply chastising her for forgetting its presence; it was reminding her of its purpose. Of their purpose. The hum of its energy seemed to echo that sentiment, urging her forward and preparing her for whatever came next.
Mikoto's breath hitched as Worochi-no-Aramasa's sheath suddenly slammed into her chest with far less force but enough to startle her. She glanced at it, its polished surface gleaming faintly, and realised it had teleported alongside the sword. The absurdity of the situation almost made her laugh, but the profound connection she felt with the blade left her too awestruck for humour.
"Thanks… for coming." She murmured softly, her voice trembling with a rare, heartfelt sincerity.
The blade pulsed in response, arcs of electricity dancing along its golden segments. The flickering energy wasn't random; it followed a deliberate rhythm, each pulse and pause forming a pattern. Mikoto's sharp mind recognised it as Morse code, the resonance translating into a message she could feel as much as decipher: Of course I'd come.
The silent exchange filled Mikoto with a renewed sense of purpose, grounding her amidst the chaos. She lifted her gaze to the looming Anti-Art Attachment, its weaponized frame standing motionless, the faint hum of its systems diminishing. It was as though the machine recognised the bond between Mikoto and the blade and had decided to back down, its sensors retracting as its stance eased.
Mikoto exhaled deeply, the tension that had gripped her like a vice since she recognised the Anti-Art Attachment slowly ebbing away. Her shoulders, previously rigid with strain, finally relaxed, their taut lines softening as the weight of the moment lifted. The breath she released felt almost cleansing, a quiet surrender of the pressure she had unknowingly been holding. Her chestnut hair, slightly dishevelled from the battle, swayed gently as she tilted her head back, her chestnut eyes flickering with a fleeting hint of relief. The battle wasn't over, not by a long shot, but for now, she allowed herself this brief reprieve.
"Good." She muttered under her breath, casting the Powered Suit a wary glance. "The last thing I need is the General Superintendent coming after me for 'stealing' his secret weapon."
Her grip on Worochi-no-Aramasa tightened, the faint pulse of the blade resonating through her fingers like a reassuring heartbeat. It was a quiet promise, a wordless affirmation that she wouldn't face anything alone. A small, resolute smile tugged at her lips as she drew in a steadying breath.
"Thank you." Mikoto murmured softly, her words almost lost in the quiet hum of the blade's energy. She carefully sheathed the sword, its golden segments locking seamlessly into place with a faint metallic click. Securing it against her waist with the belt that accompanied the sheath, she adjusted it snugly around her Tokiwadai uniform. The weapon rested against her side, its presence a reassuring weight as she straightened her posture, ready for whatever lay ahead. Sparks danced at her fingertips as she gathered her power, launching herself upward with a crackling, Electromastery-assisted leap. The force propelled her through the jagged opening in the Anti-Art Attachment's secret hangar and onto its roof with effortless precision.
Once on the roof, Mikoto paused to survey the battlefield below. Her chestnut hair, slightly tousled from the leap, framed her face as her sharp chestnut eyes took in the scene. Kamijou and Salome were still locked in a stalemate against Kihara Yuiitsu. The scientist, calm and composed, orchestrated her faux Magic Gods with unnerving precision, keeping her opponents on the defensive. And, as expected, Naru and Ruiko remained on the sidelines, steadfast in their refusal to join the fray.
"Fine. If they're not going to step in, then I will." Mikoto muttered under her breath as a flicker of frustration crossed her face, quickly replaced by determination. Her chestnut eyes narrowed, and electricity crackled around her, illuminating the faint shadows of her surroundings with a bright, electric glow as her resolve solidified.
Guess I'll have to tip the scales myself. Mikoto thought as she launched herself off the roof in a burst of lightning, her Electromastery propelling her like a streak of living energy toward the plaza where the fight raged on. Sparks crackled in her wake, a declaration that she was ready to turn the tide.
As Mikoto neared the plaza, her eyes locked onto the chaos below, their sharp intensity brimming with determination. With a fluid, practiced motion, she unsheathed Worochi-no-Aramasa in a flawless Iaijutsu quick draw, the blade's golden segments glinting brilliantly as it sliced through the air. In an instant, the weapon unleashed the Orochisen (オロチ閃, Orochi Flash) technique, its energy surging outward in a dazzling explosion of light. From the blade erupted eight serpentine dragons, their crackling forms coiling and twisting as they roared to life, each one a manifestation of pure, unrestrained electricity.
The dragons' shimmering blue forms coiled and twisted with terrifying speed, exuding an aura of primal power. They streaked downward from Mikoto's elevated position in the sky, each moving with precise, predatory intent. Like living lightning, the serpentine creatures darted and weaved, their crackling bodies carving radiant arcs across the battlefield as they honed in on Kihara Yuiitsu's faux Magic Gods. Their electrical glow illuminated the plaza, casting jagged, flickering shadows over the chaos below.
The imitation Nauda moved swiftly, raising a writhing wall of maggots from his silver prosthetic to shield himself and his companions. The dragons, however, met the barrier with relentless fury, tearing through the mass with ease. The maggot constructs disintegrated into sizzling, smoking fragments, their eerie writhing silenced by the crackling might of the serpents. Undeterred, the faux Proserpina took aim, unleashing a barrage of pomegranate seeds. But before the projectiles could strike, one of the dragons coiled tightly around her, its electric body pulsing with raw power. Trapped, the imitation Proserpina struggled, her projectiles failing to pierce the relentless serpent of lightning. With no other option, she detonated the seeds in an explosive burst of darkness, the void-like energy briefly swallowing the dragon in a roiling storm. The oppressive detonation broke its hold, forcing the serpent to dissipate into crackling sparks. The fake Proserpina stumbled back from the force of her own attack, her black mourning veil fluttering as she barely regained her footing, the strain of her counterattack evident in her movements.
The faux Chimera surged forward, its towering form moving with an eerie, predatory grace. As two of the serpentine dragons streaked toward Kihara Yuiitsu, the beast interposed itself with a powerful leap, its lion-like mane bristling with energy. The snake tail lashed out violently, unleashing a massive torrent of fire that roared through the air like a blazing tidal wave. The searing flames collided with the dragons, engulfing them in an inferno. Their crackling forms shuddered, their electrical brilliance flickering briefly before disintegrating into harmless sparks, leaving the Chimera standing protectively in front of its master.
Meanwhile, the faux Tezcatlipoca and the Niang-Niang facsimile launched a relentless counteroffensive. The imitation Tezcatlipoca raised his dark dreadlocked head, summoning a barrage of brilliant light lances that streaked through the air like meteors. Beside him, the Niang-Niang facsimile extended her sleeves, a torrent of magical weapons spilling forth - a whirlwind of spears, axes, and blades that rained down mercilessly. The combined onslaught met the remaining dragons in a cacophony of destruction, shredding the serpentine forms with devastating precision. Bolts of electricity burst apart in midair, the dragons' luminous arcs swallowed by the sheer volume of the attack.
The chaos and sudden force of the retaliation broke the fake Magic Gods' offensive stance, forcing them to retreat. Their formation scattered, the faux Magic Gods scrambling to regroup as they switched to a defensive posture. Kihara Yuiitsu stood back, her calm, calculating gaze betraying no concern, despite the cracks in her forces' coordination being undeniable.
In the midst of the disarray, Mikoto seized the opportunity. With Worochi-no-Aramasa still crackling faintly in her grip, she landed. Her movements were fluid and controlled, her athletic frame landing lightly on the battlefield with the precision of a seasoned fighter. Her Tokiwadai winter uniform fluttered with the residual energy of her earlier assault, her checkered blue skirt and black shorts moving slightly with the currents. Her lean, tomboyish silhouette exuded confidence, yet the subtle femininity of her form - a result of her athletic build and enhanced bust - lent her presence a commanding yet relatable strength.
"You two alright?" She asked, her tone calm but carrying the weight of command.
Kamijou nodded, his spiky black hair disheveled but his dark eyes holding steady determination.
"Welcome back, Misaka-san. Thanks for that." He said, his tone carrying a mix of relief and gratitude as he cast a wary glance at the retreating Magic Gods.
"Not bad, don'tcha think?" Salome quipped, as she grinned mischievously and her violet eyes sparkling with amusement even amidst the chaos.
Ignoring the mass murderer, Mikoto planted Worochi-no-Aramasa firmly into the ground, the blade pulsing with energy as she unleashed Inazuma (稲妻, Lightning Cage). Lightning bolts erupted from the blade's golden segments, streaking upward before arcing downward to form an electrified barrier. The bolts connected, creating a crackling, luminescent cage within a ten-foot circumference around Kihara Yuiitsu and her faux Magic Gods. The trapped enemies struggled to break free, with the imitation Magic Gods launching their magic against the cage in a relentless assault. Yet, the lightning held strong, absorbing their attacks and maintaining its unyielding form.
With the enemy temporarily contained, Mikoto turned sharply toward Salome, her chestnut eyes blazing with determination. Her voice rang out commandingly, sharp and precise, cutting through the crackling hum of the lightning cage. "Absorb these and combine them into a single attack!"
Salome grinned widely, her violet eyes shimmering with mischievous energy as her mint-green twin buns bobbed with the enthusiastic nod she gave in reply. Her carefree expression radiated a confidence that seemed almost out of place amidst the chaos, but it unmistakably conveyed her readiness to act. With a quick glance toward her sports bag, she darted forward, her bare feet skimming the ground as she moved with unwavering determination to carry out Mikoto's plan.
Mikoto swung Worochi-no-Aramasa with practiced ease, unleashing Kusakarisen (草刈り閃, Grass-cutting Flash) in rapid succession. Each swing sent crescent-shaped waves of cutting energy streaking toward Salome, who absorbed them with her magic. The crescents disappeared into shimmering particles as they came close to her, their energy feeding into her growing reservoir of power.
Kamijou, standing nearby, watched with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "What's the plan?"
"Trust me," Mikoto replied without missing a beat, her voice calm but commanding as she sent more Kusakarisens at Salome. "Just be ready."
Kamijou nodded, his spiky black hair shifting as he turned his focus back to the enemy. "Alright. I'll follow your lead."
Salome reached her sports bag and, in one swift motion, dropped to one knee, her fingers moving with practiced precision as she unzipped it with a dramatic flourish. From within, she pulled out a chakram, its polished surface catching the dim light and gleaming faintly as though anticipating the power it was about to be used to channel. Even before her magic flowed into it, the circular weapon radiated a subtle, almost eerie energy, hinting at its destructive potential.
"Magic's full!" She shouted over the hum of residual energy in the air, her voice carrying both excitement and focus.
Mikoto ceased her relentless swings of Worochi-no-Aramasa, lowering the blade as the glowing crescent waves dissipated. Her stance shifted, her lean frame taut with anticipation as she turned to face the enemy, chestnut eyes locking onto the trapped figures with steely determination.
"Now!" She commanded, her voice cutting through the crackling energy around them like a blade, her readiness mirrored in every fibre of her being.
With a sharp motion, Salome began to throw the chakram toward the enemy. Before it could even leave her hand, the weapon dissolved into shimmering particles, completely consumed by her magic. In its place, a massive, luminous disc of raw energy materialised, radiating with the combined power of the dozens of Kusakarisens she had absorbed. The newly-formed construct tore through the air with a deafening hum, its edges blazing with condensed lightning as it streaked toward its target with devastating precision and unstoppable force.
The disc struck the Inazuma, dispelling the lightning cage in a brilliant explosion of sparks. But more importantly, it continued forward, slicing cleanly through the five imitation Magic Gods. Their forms were bisected at the waist, their upper halves collapsing as the constructs failed.
The attack streaked toward Kihara Yuiitsu, but she reacted swiftly, raising a thick, writhing wall of Sample Shoggoth flesh. The slimy barrier absorbed the full brunt of the disc, the concentrated power failing to penetrate its grotesque resilience.
"Kamijou!" Mikoto shouted, her voice cutting through the aftermath of the attack. Yet, she hadn't needed to call him. The moment the Inazuma was dispelled, Kamijou had already broken into a full sprint toward the enemy, his determined expression set as he closed the distance.
Kihara Yuiitsu seemed to have anticipated Kamijou's charge. Even as she reformed her faux Magic Gods from the flesh of the Sample Shoggoth under her control, she raised her gun and fired precise shots at the [Imagine Breaker]. Kamijou's insane instincts allowed him to evade every shot with ease, his movements sharp and reactive. Yet Mikoto quickly realised that Kihara likely expected this. The scientist wasn't aiming to hit him but rather to force him back and create space.
That's fine, though. Mikoto thought with a smirk.
Using the base physical amplification effect of Rampage Dress alongside a basic electromagnetic assist, she launched herself at Kihara just as Kamijou was forced back and Kihara ran out of bullets. Her lean, athletic frame became a blur as she closed the distance, her eyes locked onto the scientist. However, just as she raised Worochi-no-Aramasa to swing and unleash a shocking blow meant to render Kihara unconscious, a still half-formed imitation Niang-Niang intercepted her.
The faux Magic God raised a magic sword in her pale, partially-formed hand, the weapon radiating an unsettling, otherworldly glow. She met Mikoto's strike head-on, their blades colliding in an explosive clash of steel and raw energy. Sparks erupted violently upon impact, the crackling discharge illuminating the battlefield and sending sharp reverberations echoing through the chaotic air.
Mikoto pulled back quickly, twisting to deliver a feint aimed at the construct's side, but the faux Niang-Niang was faster than she'd expected. The half-formed figure pivoted, parrying with a calculated strike that sent a ripple of magical energy through the air. Mikoto recovered instantly, her blade weaving through an intricate arc as she transitioned into a counter-slash aimed at the construct's torso. The imitation shifted just enough to deflect her strike, its sword ringing out sharply against Worochi-no-Aramasa.
The two combatants circled each other for a brief moment before Mikoto lunged forward, thrusting her blade in a piercing attack. The faux Niang-Niang sidestepped with inhuman agility, using the momentum to unleash a lightning-fast slash aimed at Mikoto's shoulder. Sparks flew as Mikoto intercepted the blow, the force of their collision sending a jolt up her arm. Gritting her teeth, she twisted her body, driving the faux Magic God back with a wide horizontal slash that forced her opponent to retreat a step.
Mikoto pressed her advantage, launching into a series of rapid strikes designed to overwhelm the construct. Her blade moved with electrifying speed, the golden segments of Worochi-no-Aramasa glowing faintly as she delivered a flurry of slashes. The imitation Niang-Niang responded in kind, deflecting and parrying each strike, their movements blurring into a dazzling dance of blades and energy. Finally, their swords clashed in a blade lock, sparks of electricity and magic surging outward as they pushed against each other.
As Mikoto strained against the construct's blade, her muscles taut with effort, she noticed Worochi-no-Aramasa pulsing rhythmically in her grip. A faint hum of radio emissions emanated from the weapon, the pattern unmistakably Morse code. Her chestnut colored eyes narrowed, concentration flickering across her face as she deciphered the message.
Master, the blade transmitted. I have discerned how to cast one of my most powerful spells for you. Give the cue by shouting its name, and I will unleash it.
Trapped in the test of strength with the construct in the blade lock, Mikoto muttered to her sword, "No time like the present. What's the spell called?"
The response came through the same coded pulses.
"Raijin no Yoroi (雷神の鎧, Raijin's Armor)!" Mikoto shouted, her voice cutting through the din of battle.
The moment the words left her lips, Worochi-no-Aramasa unleashed a massive surge of electricity. The energy enveloped Mikoto in a radiant, crackling storm, wrapping her body in lightning as it transformed into a magnificent set of samurai armor. The armor radiated raw, untamed power, its jagged edges glowing with fierce white and gold hues. A menacing kabuto helmet crowned her head, its antler-like horns arcing skyward, exuding an overwhelming sense of authority and danger.
The chestplate and pauldrons shimmered with intricate, flowing patterns of electricity, a living tapestry of lightning's destructive beauty. From her back, massive wings of pure energy unfurled, their jagged arcs flickering in blinding white and radiant gold. Long tail feathers made of lightning streamed downward, tapering into sharp, crackling points that swayed with an elegant menace, completing the armor's divine yet intimidating appearance.
In her grip, Worochi-no-Aramasa transformed into a katana forged entirely from concentrated lightning. Its blade burned with an intense, searing glow, veined with gold streaks that emanated an aura of unparalleled lethality. Every movement Mikoto made sent arcs of electricity cascading from the armor, wings, and blade, creating an electrified storm that surged and roared around her. The battlefield seemed to pause as the fusion of Mikoto's will and Worochi-no-Aramasa radiated an unmatched elegance and unstoppable force, the embodiment of her mastery over lightning.
The fake Niang-Niang stumbled back, visibly startled by the overwhelming power of Worochi-no-Aramasa's new spell. Whether the construct itself was capable of such emotions or it was Kihara Yuiitsu emoting through it, Mikoto neither knew nor cared. All that mattered to her was that the hesitation provided the opening she needed to act decisively.
With a powerful yet seemingly effortless swing of Worochi-no-Aramasa, Mikoto unleashed a supercharged Kusakarisen. It wasn't supercharged merely in terms of its size or raw energy, though both were undeniably greater than usual, but rather in the magical authority infused within it. As the crescent-shaped energy radiated from the blade, Mikoto felt information streaming directly into her nervous system, transmitted electrically from her sword. The sensation filled her mind in a manner remarkably similar to Testament, the data integrating seamlessly with her thoughts and guiding her actions with precise clarity. The data made it clear: this technique transcended mere destructive force. The strike carried the very concept of cutting to an unprecedented level.
The energy crescent tore through the air, its brilliance illuminating the battlefield as it reached the startled Niang-Niang construct. The blade of energy didn't merely bisect the construct's body; it severed the very concept of its existence from the Sample Shoggoth that had created it. The remains of the construct dissolved into nothingness, leaving no trace for the Shoggoth to rebuild.
"How!?" Kihara Yuiitsu gasped, her voice sharp with shock as she realised the construct could not reform. "Why can't I recreate that construct!?"
"It's magic." Mikoto replied blithely, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. Without waiting for a response, she beat her newly-formed wings of lightning, sending a cascade of crackling sparks flying outward as she soared into the air.
The sensation was exhilarating. For the first time, she was truly flying under her own power. The electric wings carried her effortlessly above the battlefield, the radiant arcs of lightning trailing behind her like a storm given form. Despite the chaos below, a thrill coursed through her veins, a mix of awe and exhilaration. She'd never experienced anything like this before. Though now wasn't the time to revel in it. However, Mikoto knew without a doubt that when the battle was over, she would fall in love with the freedom it offered.
But there was still a fight to finish. Her chestnut eyes sharpened as she turned her focus back to Kihara and the remaining constructs. The air around her shimmered with energy, every beat of her wings crackling with untamed power as she prepared to bring the full might of her newfound abilities to bear.
Mikoto soared higher into the air, her wings of crackling electricity casting an ominous glow over the battlefield. With a sharp cry, she swung the transformed Worochi-no-Aramasa in a powerful overhead arc, unleashing a Kusakarisen attack. A crescent of cutting electricity surged forward, its blinding brilliance illuminating the chaos below as it streaked directly toward Kihara Yuiitsu.
Immediately, the remaining fake Magic Gods sprang into action, moving to intercept the attack. The imitation Tezcatlipoca fired a barrage of light lances at the crescent, while the faux Proserpina launched her bullets of darkness using her pomegranate seeds. At the same time, the Chimera construct unleashed a torrent of flames from the snake tail growing from its back. Each attack collided with the Kusakarisen, but none had any effect. The crescent of energy cut through the onslaught effortlessly, continuing its relentless trajectory toward Kihara. Even the Nauda facsimile, raising a writhing barrier of maggots, failed to slow it down. The Kusakarisen tore through the grotesque barrier as though it were air.
As a final defense, Kihara manipulated the Sample Shoggoth under her control to create a massive wall of its flesh, its slimy surface writhing as it solidified into a grotesque shield. Yet even this proved insufficient, the Kusakarisen cleaving through it with ease. At the last possible moment, Kihara stepped forward and raised her right arm, slapping her hand against the crescent of electricity. In an instant, the energy attack blinked out of existence, vanishing entirely in a manner strikingly similar to the way Kamijou Touma's Imagine Breaker negated supernatural forces.
Mikoto gasped in shock, her chestnut eyes wide with disbelief as she watched the attack disappear. Below her, Kamijou finally got in close with the fake Chimera, delivering a solid punch that connected with the construct. The force of his Imagine Breaker caused the Sample Shoggoth's form to collapse, the construct dissolving into a puddle of slimy, metamorphic flesh.
Nearby, Salome had just obliterated the imitation Tezcatlipoca, using a combination of a set of darts she had absorbed with her magic and light lances similarly absorbed from the faux Magic God to annihilate the dreadlocked construct entirely. Turning sharply toward Kihara, her violet eyes blazed with fury as she screamed, "That's Onii-san's World Rejecter! How did you get it!?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Kihara replied smoothly, a smirk curling her lips. Her composure remained unshaken despite the chaos raging around her, and her tone dripped with mockery as her cold amber eyes locked onto Salome.
Salome growled and charged headlong at the scientist, ignoring Kamijou's shout of warning as he struggled to fend off the fake Nauda and its swarming maggot constructs. "Don't! It's a trap!"
Kihara Yuiitsu's smirk widened as she reformed the fake Chimera from the Sample Shoggoth's flesh, its monstrous form quickly taking shape before she sent it charging at the advancing magician. The humanoid beast lunged forward, its ram horns elongating grotesquely as it aimed to gore Salome. With lightning-fast reflexes, Salome yanked a throwing dagger from her sports bag, zipping it shut in one smooth motion as she sprang into the air, narrowly evading the Chimera's attack.
Mid-leap, the faux Magic God's snake tail reared back and unleashed a fiery blast aimed directly at her. Salome's violet eyes glinted with mischief as she smirked, activating her magic to absorb both the throwing dagger and the surging flames. The accumulated energy coursed through her, building rapidly until a blade of roaring fire materialised in her grasp. Twisting gracefully in mid-air, she aimed downward with precise intent and drove the fiery blade into the Chimera below her.
The construct let out a distorted, guttural sound as the blade pierced its body, the fire spreading rapidly and consuming its form. In mere moments, the Sample Shoggoth flesh that comprised it was reduced to smouldering ash. Salome landed gracefully on the other side of the charred remains, her violet eyes glinting with triumph as the destroyed construct's remnants scattered behind her.
At the same time, Mikoto found herself locked in a deadly aerial game of cat and mouse as the fake Proserpina unleashed a relentless barrage of darkness bullets. The bullets, dense spheres of shadow that bent light as they moved, detonated with explosive force, each blast creating swirling voids in the air that seemed to pull at Mikoto as she darted through them.
Mikoto twisted through the air with expert precision, her lightning wings pulsing with sharp bursts of energy to shift her trajectory at the last second, evading the explosions by the narrowest margins. She banked hard to the left, narrowly avoiding a cluster of three darkness bullets that detonated simultaneously, the concussive force rippling through the air behind her. She immediately dove lower, corkscrewing downward to avoid another volley that aimed to cut off her escape.
Every movement demanded split-second timing. Mikoto executed sharp rolls and sudden flips, each maneuver designed to keep her just out of the line of fire. Sparks of electricity arced from her body, deflecting fragments of the void-like energy that came too close for comfort. Her chestnut eyes narrowed with focus, sweat beading on her brow as she gritted her teeth and pushed her Electromastery to its limits to maintain her agility.
Amidst the chaos, Ruiko's calm voice whispered into her ear via her emulated audiokinesis, delivering crucial intel. "World Rejecter only works on individuals being targeted who have conflicting desires in their hearts. Right now, neither Kamijou, Salome, nor you qualify, so it won't affect you. However, Worochi-no-Aramasa's magic is evidently susceptible."
Mikoto grimaced as Worochi-no-Aramasa reached out to her telepathically through its direct connection to her nervous system, its voice resonating faintly within her mind. The blade's tone was apologetic as it conveyed its thoughts. Master, I would prefer you to be a proper Magician. It would make using my magic much easier for you.
Dodging another volley of darkness bullets, now joined by light lances fired her way by the reformed fake Tezcatlipoca, Mikoto twisted sharply in the air, her lightning wings flaring with bursts of energy that propelled her clear of another deadly detonation. The darkness bullets exploded below her, their void-like energy rippling outward with an unsettling pull, while the light lances streaked past her, grazing close enough to leave faint trails of heat against her skin.
She banked hard to the left, her movements precise despite the relentless barrage, sparks of electricity cascading around her as she pushed her newfound flight ability to its very limits. Each sharp turn and roll was a testament to her growing mastery over the electric wings that carried her. However, the effort was beginning to take its toll. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts, the strain of constant evasion pressing heavily on her, yet her focus remained unwavering.
It's fine. Don't worry about it, Mikoto reassured the sword mentally, her tone firm but calm despite the chaos unfolding around her. Her chestnut eyes flicked toward the next wave of incoming projectiles, tracking their trajectories with precise focus. Amidst the storm of light lances and darkness bullets streaking through the air, she caught sight of Salome being forced back. The magician was scrambling to escape as a veritable tsunami of Sample Shoggoth flesh surged toward her, the grotesque mass threatening to engulf her completely.
Without breaking her rhythm, Mikoto twisted sharply in mid-air, narrowly avoiding another barrage, and whispered aloud, her voice low but steady. She knew Ruiko would catch her words through one or another of her emulated sensory powers. "Will my powers work?"
Ruiko's response came promptly, her voice steady and composed amidst the chaos. "Yes, they should. Just don't channel them through Worochi-no-Aramasa."
"Got it." Mikoto replied, her words carrying equal weight for both Ruiko and the sword. Worochi-no-Aramasa responded immediately, sending a pulse of understanding through their telepathic link. The energy it radiated thrummed in sync with her own, a reassuring signal of their shared purpose.
A faint smile tugged at Mikoto's lips as she adjusted her course, her wings crackling with electric energy. She whispered again, her voice carrying a quiet authority. "Tell Kamijou and Salome to clear the killzone."
"I'm on it," Ruiko replied crisply, her tone laced with determination. Mikoto didn't look back, trusting her teammate to relay the order. Her chestnut eyes remained fixed on the battlefield below, calculating her next move as the chaos surged around her. The faint smile lingered as she prepared to unleash the full force of her power.
As Kamijou and Salome disengaged and moved swiftly away from Kihara and her remaining fake Magic Gods, Mikoto began rapidly swinging the transformed Worochi-no-Aramasa. Each stroke unleashed a Kusakarisen, the storm of cutting crescents cascading down onto the battlefield below. The constructs scrambled to defend themselves. The fake Tezcatlipoca fired a barrage of light lances, the imitation Proserpina launched more darkness bullets, and the faux Chimera's snake tail breathed waves of fire. The Nauda facsimile raised a massive maggot barrier. Yet, none of their efforts made any difference.
The Kusakarisens tore through every defense, slicing through the incoming attacks as if they weren't there. As the crescents of cutting electricity struck the plaza, a massive cloud of dust erupted, shrouding the battlefield. The devastating energy consumed the constructs, severing not just their forms but the very concept of their existence from the Sample Shoggoth that had created them. When the dust began to settle, there was no trace of the fake Magic Gods, leaving Kihara Yuiitsu standing alone amidst the destruction.
For the first time in the entire fight, Kihara Yuiitsu's smirk faltered. A flicker of worry crossed her face, her composure momentarily slipping in the wake of her constructs' destruction. Mikoto wasn't about to give her time to recover.
Make sure not to amplify this one. She told Worochi-no-Aramasa telepathically, receiving a pulse of affirmation from the sword in return. Without hesitation, Mikoto pulled out one of her Dark Matter coins, the material gleaming faintly in her hand as she charged a carefully modulated railgun. Electricity surged around her, and with a sharp crack, she fired. The coin streaked through the air, leaving a glowing line of superheated plasma in its wake, its sheer velocity turning the atmosphere into a conduit for destruction.
The coin slammed into the ground near Kihara, who was still reeling from the defeat of her fake Magic Gods. The impact unleashed a powerful shockwave, sending her hurtling backward into a nearby building. At the last second, Kihara managed to cushion the impact with a hastily formed mass of Sample Shoggoth flesh. The maneuver saved her from a lethal collision, but it wasn't enough to prevent the disorientation that followed. She stumbled back to her feet, woozy and visibly shaken.
"You're mine!" Salome's voice rang out as she charged toward the Kihara, her violet eyes blazing with predatory intent.
Kihara's expression darkened as she assessed the situation. Frowning, she pulled her gun and fired a rapid volley at the approaching Magician. Salome easily evaded every shot, her superhuman agility allowing her to weave through the bullets effortlessly. The barrage, however, gave Kihara the cover she needed to retreat. Ordering her Sample Shoggoth to form a writhing mass beneath her, she climbed aboard as the grotesque creature began to carry her away.
As Kihara fled, Salome immediately gave chase, her determination evident as she raced after the retreating figure. Kamijou, meanwhile, all but collapsed into a sitting position, letting out an exhausted sigh. "I'm done. I'm completely exhausted."
Mikoto considered chasing Kihara for a moment, the temptation to finish what they started tugging at her. However, she quickly dismissed the idea. She had read the intel file Ruiko and her analysts had compiled on the woman. Kihara Yuiitsu was deeply connected, and making a true enemy of her wasn't a risk Mikoto was willing to take. Fighting her off in the moment was one thing; pursuing her was an entirely different matter. At least not without first understanding why she had targeted Kamijou and whether she truly deserved to be their enemy.
Instead, Mikoto took a moment to centre herself, her chestnut eyes softening slightly. She offered Worochi-no-Aramasa a heartfelt, "Thank you."
The blade pulsed with electricity in response, radiating an energy that felt almost alive, a sensation Mikoto could only describe as a satisfied purr. Smiling faintly, she descended gracefully, her lightning wings flickering out as her feet touched the ground with a soft thud. She straightened, brushing a strand of chestnut hair from her face and exhaling deeply as she added, "So, how do I release-"
The moment the word "release" left her lips, Worochi-no-Aramasa responded instantly, dropping the Raijin no Yoroi in a dazzling cascade of energy. The stored lightning surged outward in a sudden, uncontrolled burst, the blinding arcs crackling and illuminating the battlefield in sharp, electric flashes. The ground beneath Mikoto's feet trembled as bolts of energy erupted in all directions, scattering debris and scorching the earth with their intensity.
One particularly vicious bolt streaked toward Kamijou, forcing him to react on instinct. His right hand shot up just in time, the Imagine Breaker nullifying the surge with a faint crackle as the destructive energy dissipated harmlessly against his palm.
"Hey! Watch it!" He shouted, his voice edged with exasperation as he stumbled back, visibly shaken.
Mikoto didn't so much as glance at him. Her focus remained solely on her sword as she gripped it with deliberate care, the blade humming faintly in her hands. With a tender motion, she sheathed Worochi-no-Aramasa, its glowing energy fading as the weapon settled into its resting state. The act silenced the perpetual storm of lightning that had enveloped both her and the blade while it was drawn. The crackling chaos dissipated entirely, leaving behind an almost eerie stillness.
Standing amidst the aftermath of the battle, Mikoto exhaled deeply, her chestnut eyes sharp and reflective. Strands of her chestnut hair clung to her face, damp from exertion, but her posture remained steady and composed. The scorched and shattered ground around her bore testament to the ferocity of the fight, yet she stood unbowed, her figure illuminated by the faint glow of dissipating sparks. Her expression was one of quiet resolve, the tension of battle giving way to a calm readiness as she surveyed the ruined battlefield.
Her contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of applause from behind her. The sharp clapping broke through the stillness, cutting through the faint crackle of residual energy lingering in the air. Startled, Mikoto turned, her chestnut eyes narrowing slightly as her focus shifted toward the unexpected sound.
Ruiko teleported in with Naru-chan, both of them clapping enthusiastically as they approached Mikoto-senpai. Naru-chan's long, silky blonde pigtails swayed with each step, the black ribbons securing them fluttering slightly. Her sharp cerulean eyes sparkled mischievously as she carried a bucket of popcorn and a cup of soda. Ruiko, her own blue eyes alight with amusement, balanced a matching set of snacks in her hands. The small, white flower on the left side of her long black hair remained perfectly in place, a testament to her tidy appearance.
Senpai, her chestnut hair slightly disheveled from the fight and clinging to her damp forehead, shot them both a glare as her chestnut eyes narrowed sharply at the sight of the snacks. Her Tokiwadai winter uniform, slightly rumpled from the intense battle, added to her overall air of exasperation. She planted her hands on her hips, her posture radiating irritation as she took in the buckets of popcorn and cans of soda with disbelief.
"Popcorn? Soda? Really?" She scolded, her voice laced with irritation.
Naru-chan smirked, her lithe and athletic frame leaning casually to one side, the checkered blue skirt of her Tokiwadai winter uniform swaying slightly with the motion. With an air of complete nonchalance, she popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, chewing leisurely as if she hadn't a care in the world. Her sharp cerulean eyes glinted with mischief, clearly enjoying Mikoto-senpai's irritation as she shifted her weight and casually dug into the bucket for another handful of popcorn.
Ruiko stepped forward with calm purpose, her toned, hourglass figure moving gracefully as she closed the distance. The small white flower adorning her long black hair remained perfectly in place, a delicate contrast to the chaos of the battlefield. Without a word, she extended a fresh cup of soda toward Senpai.
"Here, Senpai. You must be thirsty." She said gently, offering the drink she had gone out of her way to buy.
Startled by the gesture, Mikoto-senpai blinked and hesitated for a brief moment before automatically accepting the can. Her movements were almost mechanical, as if her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Raising it to her lips, she took a sip, the cool, fizzy drink clearly providing immediate relief after the intense fight. Ruiko noticed the tension in her senpai's shoulders begin to ease, and the sharpness in her chestnut eyes softened slightly as she exhaled a long, audible sigh of relief.
"That hits the spot," Mikoto-senpai admitted grudgingly, her tone carrying an undercurrent of surprise mingled with genuine appreciation. Ruiko caught the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at Senpai's lips that softened her usually determined and fiery demeanour.
Naru-chan giggled, her petite frame trembling slightly as she chuckled at Mikoto-senpai's expense, the black ribbons tied in her long blonde pigtails fluttering with the motion. Her sharp cerulean eyes sparkled mischievously, her amusement evident in the way she barely suppressed another laugh. Meanwhile, Ruiko offered a warm smile, her long black hair shifting gently as she tilted her head slightly, a faint hint of amusement lighting up her calm blue eyes.
"By the way, Senpai, nice new technique." Naru-chan teased, her sharp cerulean eyes glinting playfully as she reached into her popcorn bucket for another handful. "It reminds me of the Shinobi's Susanoo technique Kurama told me about."
Mikoto-senpai's chestnut eyes narrowed sharply at the comment, her expression darkening as irritation flashed across her face. The edges of her mouth turned downward into a deep frown, and her brows furrowed with obvious displeasure. The sharp glint in her gaze was unmistakable, a clear warning that she wasn't in the mood for teasing.
"Don't compare me to those idiots." She shot back, her voice laced with exasperation. The sharpness of her tone cut through the air, carrying all the frustration of someone who felt her abilities were being undermined. Her posture stiffened as she planted her hands firmly on her hips, making her annoyance all the more evident.
"Okay, okay," Naru-chan replied breezily with a shrug, her tan Tokiwadai winter blazer shifting slightly as she made the motion. "Then I'll just point out how the armor made you look like a guy. No femininity at all."
Mikoto-senpai froze for a moment, her gaze snapping to Ruiko like a laser. Her chestnut eyes were sharp and demanding, the unspoken question clear in her expression. Finally, she voiced it, her tone hesitant. "Is that true?"
Ruiko hesitated, her usually calm demeanor faltering under the intensity of Senpai's sharp chestnut gaze. The weight of her senpai's stare pressed heavily on her, and for a moment, she considered softening the truth. But she knew better than to lie to Mikoto-senpai. Her blue eyes flickered with reluctant honesty as she met Mikoto-senpai's expectant gaze, the subtle tension in her shoulders betraying her discomfort. After a brief pause, she nodded, the motion small but deliberate, a quiet acknowledgment of the unfortunate reality.
"The sword's spell invokes the power of the god Susanoo-no-Mikoto." She explained, her tone measured and careful. She chose her words carefully, aware of how much they could sting and making an effort to soften the blow as much as possible. "So, of course, it looks masculine."
Mikoto-senpai groaned audibly, the sound carrying a mixture of frustration and resignation as she tilted her head back slightly. Her hand moved to her slightly disheveled chestnut hair, threading through the strands in an attempt to tame the mess caused by the earlier fight. The action was instinctive, her fingers brushing against the small hair clip with two delicate flowers that remained in place despite the chaos. The gesture only seemed to amplify her exasperation, her chestnut eyes briefly closing as if to shut out the teasing remarks swirling around her.
"It makes me look like a guy?" She muttered, her voice laced with equal parts disbelief and dismay. Her chestnut eyes opened, narrowing slightly as she glanced at Ruiko, seeking confirmation she clearly didn't want to hear. The corners of her mouth twitched downward, her expression bordering on a pout as she struggled to reconcile the revelation with her earlier confidence in the technique.
Ruiko nodded again, her movements subtle but laced with quiet sympathy. Her blue eyes softened slightly as she adjusted the small white flower hair clip pinned to her long black hair, the delicate motion a small attempt to steady herself under Mikoto-senpai's intense gaze. She leaned forward just enough to convey her unease at delivering the answer she knew Senpai didn't want to hear.
"Unfortunately, yes." She replied, her voice low and apologetic, her tone carrying a genuine regret for confirming Mikoto-senpai's worst fear.
"You looked so handsome~!" Naru-chan chimed in, her voice dripping with exaggerated sweetness that only amplified the playful jab. Her blonde pigtails bounced animatedly with each giggle. She clasped her hands together in mock admiration, her sharp cerulean eyes sparkling with mischief as she grinned widely at Mikoto-senpai's growing discomfort. Naru-chan's lithe frame leaned slightly forward, her expression making it clear she was thoroughly enjoying the moment.
"Shut up!" Mikoto-senpai snapped, her voice ringing out sharper than she intended. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, the intensity of her embarrassment reaching its peak. Her chestnut eyes darted toward Ruiko, silently pleading for some kind of support to rescue her from Naru-chan's relentless teasing. Her posture stiffened defensively, her shoulders drawn tight, while her fingers fidgeted absently with the hem of her slightly rumpled Tokiwadai uniform blazer. The tension in her frame betrayed her struggle to regain her composure, the effort only amplifying her discomfort as she stood rooted to the spot.
Best to head this off before they actually get into an argument. Ruiko thought as she offered Mikoto-senpai a faint, apologetic smile. Her blue eyes betrayed a blend of amusement and sympathy, a quiet acknowledgment of her senpai's predicament.
Arguments between Senpai and Naru-chan, while playful, often had the potential to escalate quickly. With that in mind, Ruiko stepped forward before the brewing confrontation could spiral out of control. Her blue eyes narrowed, her steady gaze cutting through the tension as she delivered a single, pointed look that silenced both Mikoto-senpai and Naru-chan instantly. The weight of her composed yet commanding presence left no room for further bickering, the intensity of her expression conveying her firm stance without the need for words.
Recognising the need to shift her teammates' focus, Ruiko turned her attention to Kamijou, who sat nearby, visibly slumped and radiating exhaustion. His posture was one of defeat, his spiky black hair slightly disheveled, and his dark eyes reflecting a mix of weariness and discomfort. Whether his hesitation came from the physical toll of the battle or the awkwardness of being caught between a group of middle school girls, it was clear he felt out of place and unsure of how to proceed.
Ruiko seized the opportunity, her blue eyes narrowing with determination as she stepped toward him. Her voice rang out with commanding clarity, sharp and unwavering, cutting through the lingering tension and slicing through Kamijou's indecision. The sudden authority in her tone immediately drew his attention, his dark eyes snapping up to meet hers. The weight of her words left no room for argument, their purposeful delivery making it clear that this wasn't a suggestion but an expectation.
"Reward Mikoto-senpai for helping you today." She stated firmly, her steady gaze locking onto Kamijou, ensuring he understood there was no alternative but to comply.
Senpai's cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of pink, the colour spreading rapidly as her chestnut eyes widened in both shock and mortification. The sheer absurdity of the demand caught her completely off guard, leaving her momentarily frozen before her embarrassment took over.
"It's not necessary!" Mikoto-senpai sputtered, her voice uneven and flustered as she stumbled over her words. The awkwardness of the situation seemed to grip her entirely, her tone rising in pitch with each syllable. She waved her hands in front of her in an attempt to dismiss Ruiko's suggestion, the gesture so hurried and frantic that it only emphasised her discomfort. Her chestnut hair shifted slightly with her movements, adding to the dishevelled look of someone thoroughly out of her depth.
"Of course it is." Naru-chan chimed in without missing a beat, her sharp cerulean eyes glinting as she turned her gaze to Kamijou. The blonde's petite frame leaned slightly forward as she placed her hands on her hips, her expression filled with exaggerated indignation. Her pigtails bounced slightly with her sharp movements, and she shot Kamijou a glare so cutting it could almost be felt across the battlefield.
"You agree, right?" Naru-chan added, her sharp eyes turned towards Kamijou. Her petite frame leaned forward slightly, exuding an air of playful menace. Her tone dripped with expectation, every word punctuated with a pointed edge as she crossed her arms over her blazer. Her glare was sharp enough to cut through steel, clearly implying that there was only one acceptable answer to her question.
Kamijou froze under the sudden attention, his spiky black hair still askew from the earlier fight. His dark eyes widened in surprise, darting nervously between Ruiko, Naru-chan, and Mikoto-senpai as if searching for an escape. Finding none, he gulped audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing in a way that betrayed his unease.
"Y-yeah." He stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he struggled to find the right response. The combined weight of their expectant stares pressed heavily on him, leaving him flustered. His shoulders slumped further, his earlier resilience replaced by nervous compliance as he nodded weakly.
After the events of their confrontation with Kihara Yuiitsu, Mikoto found herself being treated to lunch by Kamijou, a gesture of gratitude that had admittedly come at Ruiko and Naru's coercive insistence but one she appreciated nonetheless. It was a lunch they had planned to have at a steakhouse situated within the very same Dark Side commercial area where the battle had unfolded. The establishment exuded a swanky elegance, radiating modern luxury intertwined with a subtle air of exclusivity. Polished wooden tables were neatly adorned with black leather placemats and gleaming silverware, their surfaces catching the sunlight streaming through the tall, Art Deco-style windows. Intricate metal designs framed the glass, lending an elegant yet slightly edgy touch to the room's overall aesthetic. Black, tufted leather chairs with curved backs provided a balance of comfort and sophistication, arranged in a manner that created a welcoming yet private dining environment.
At the back of the room stood a grand bar, its shelves lined with an impressive selection of spirits, all illuminated by a soft, golden glow that added warmth to the space. Geometric patterns and metallic accents on the bar complemented the overall design, enhancing the sophisticated yet industrial-inspired aesthetic. Overhead, sculptural lighting fixtures cast an ambient glow, blending seamlessly with the natural light filtering through the windows. The entire space reflected a deliberate balance of minimalist refinement and bold, striking details, making it abundantly clear that this venue catered to the elite of Academy City, including the enigmatic figures of its Dark Side. It was the kind of place where refinement and danger seemed to coexist in perfect harmony.
Mikoto, her chestnut hair slightly disheveled from their earlier ordeal but neatly clipped back with her signature hair accessory featuring two small flowers, entered the restaurant alongside Kamijou. Her chestnut eyes scanned the space with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Her lean, athletic build moved with the easy grace of someone used to being ready for anything, her tan Tokiwadai winter blazer fitting neatly over her white dress shirt and red ribbon bow tie. Her checkered blue skirt swayed slightly with her steps, the shorts she always wore underneath just barely visible. Around her waist, the sheathed Worochi-no-Aramasa rested securely on a belt, a subtle reminder of their recent fight.
Kamijou followed beside her, his spiky black hair styled in its usual rebellious manner, still slightly tousled from the fight. His dark eyes, sharp and focused, scanned the room cautiously, a stark contrast to his otherwise casual demeanor. He wore his A Certain High School uniform, a black, high-collared blazer with gold buttons and matching trousers, layered over a casual white hoodie, the faint hint of purple lining on the hood adding a personal flair to his otherwise formal attire.
As they stepped into the steakhouse, the subtle hum of quiet conversations and the clinking of glasses filled the air, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and exclusivity. A server immediately approached them, his movements smooth and practiced. His warm but professional smile put forth the effortless hospitality expected of such an upscale establishment, his polished uniform adding to the restaurant's refined aesthetic.
"Welcome," he greeted politely, his tone perfectly measured to convey both respect and attentiveness. "Table for two?"
Mikoto nodded, her chestnut eyes briefly scanning the restaurant, taking in its refined ambiance and the quiet efficiency of its staff. She turned her attention back to the server and added, "Yes, and if possible, could you arrange a place next to our table to safekeep my sword?"
Her tone was calm but carried a subtle firmness, one that brokered no room for misinterpretation. Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of Worochi-no-Aramasa, the sheathed blade secured at her waist. The gesture wasn't meant to be imposing, but it carried an air of quiet authority, a clear signal that the sword was not a mere accessory but an integral part of her presence. The sunlight streaming in through the tall windows caught the faint sheen of the weapon's ornate sheath, drawing the server's attention for the briefest moment before he nodded with practiced composure.
The server's gaze briefly flicked to the sword, and with an almost imperceptible nod, he signaled to another waiter nearby. His subtle gesture toward the blade and an empty table near the windows was met with an equally subtle nod of understanding from the other staff member.
"Of course," the server replied smoothly. "If you'll follow me, we'll get you seated right away."
They followed him as he led them through the elegantly arranged dining area, the polished wooden floors reflecting the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the tall, Art Deco-style windows. The server guided them to the table he had indicated earlier, where the other waiter had just finished setting up a custom stand designed specifically for weapons. It was a discreet yet clear accommodation for the type of clientele the restaurant catered to, a thoughtful touch that seamlessly blended practicality with the establishment's luxurious aesthetic.
Mikoto and Kamijou took their seats at the table near the windows, the sunlight casting a warm, golden glow over their surroundings. Mikoto carefully unfastened Worochi-no-Aramasa from its belt, her movements deliberate and precise. Placing the sword on the stand, she paused for a moment, appreciating the attention to detail. Still, a flicker of self-consciousness crossed her face as she considered the contrast between carrying such a weapon and the upscale, refined atmosphere of the restaurant. She adjusted her position slightly, trying to shake off the awkwardness, as Kamijou, seemingly oblivious, settled into his seat with a sigh of relief.
"Your menu, ma'am, sir," The server said politely, presenting a pair of old-fashioned paper menus with a small bow. Mikoto and Kamijou exchanged a quick glance, their curiosity piqued by the unusual gesture. In a city as technologically advanced as Academy City, where holographic and digital interfaces were the norm, paper menus felt almost quaint. Mikoto turned the sturdy menu over in her hands, the texture unfamiliar but oddly charming. It was clear the restaurant fully embraced its retro aesthetic, complementing its Art Deco design with this touch of old-world charm.
After a brief moment, the server returned, pen and notepad in hand, ready to take their orders.
After they both took a moment to peruse the menus, Kamijou was the first to break the silence, his voice carrying a casual enthusiasm that stood out against the refined and understated ambiance of the restaurant. His tone was light and unpretentious, a sharp contrast to the swanky surroundings, as if he were completely unaffected by the exclusivity of the venue. The relaxed confidence in his voice added an air of familiarity to the moment, making it feel less like a formal outing and more like a comfortable meal between friends.
"I'll have the medium-rare ribeye steak, please, with fried mozzarella sticks as the appetiser. For the drink, iced tea, and for dessert, the chocolate lava cake." He glanced up from the menu with a faint smile. "Thanks."
Mikoto, still carefully considering her options, lowered her menu with a deliberate motion and glanced at the server standing attentively nearby. Her chestnut eyes reflected a mix of decisiveness and contemplation as she briefly scanned the table, the faint sheen of sunlight catching on her hair clip. With a subtle shift of her posture, she prepared to place her order, her expression calm yet carrying poised confidence.
"I'll have the sirloin steak, well done, please. For the appetiser, I'll take the Caesar salad, and lemon soda for the drink." She paused briefly, her chestnut eyes glancing at the menu once more before adding, "And the strawberry shortcake for dessert."
The server gave a courteous nod, his professionalism unwavering. "Excellent choices. Your orders will be out shortly."
With that, he gracefully collected their menus, tucking them under his arm with practiced ease before retreating to process their orders. They watched him go as they settled into their seats. Mikoto leaned back slightly, her chestnut eyes sharp yet distant as they drifted across the elegant surroundings. Her posture appeared relaxed, but the subtle tension in her gaze betrayed the weight of the day's events still lingering in her thoughts. The sunlight streaming through the Art Deco windows bathed her chestnut hair in a warm glow, accentuating the soft waves that framed her face. Her fingers brushed absently against the small hair clip with its two delicate flowers, a gesture so slight it seemed instinctive, grounding her amidst the refined atmosphere of the steakhouse.
Kamijou, seated across from her, leaned back in his chair with a faint sigh of relief. His dark eyes flicked to her, and a small, grateful smile crossed his face. The weariness of the earlier battle clung faintly to his expression, but the relaxed ambiance of the steakhouse was beginning to chip away at it.
The contrast between their current setting - polished tables, soft ambient lighting, and the faint clinking of glasses - and the chaos they had endured less than an hour earlier wasn't lost on either of them. Yet neither chose to address it directly. Instead, they let the promise of a good meal and the quiet elegance of the restaurant begin to ease the weight of the day, sharing a moment of unspoken camaraderie amidst the calm.
Kamijou leaned back slightly in his chair, his posture relaxed but his dark eyes keen as they took in Mikoto's appearance. There was a genuine quality in the way his gaze lingered, not in an intrusive way but as if he was noticing something about her that he hadn't fully appreciated before. His spiky black hair, slightly tousled from their earlier ordeal, seemed to enhance the casual sincerity of his expression.
"You look really good, Misaka-san." He said, his voice carrying a warmth that matched the faint smile tugging at his lips. There was no hint of teasing or irony in his tone, only an earnest compliment that made the words feel both natural and heartfelt.
Mikoto tilted her head, her chestnut eyes narrowing slightly in amusement as she crossed her arms over her tan Tokiwadai blazer. Her chestnut hair shifted slightly as she raised an eyebrow at him.
"I'm not dressed any differently than I normally am." She replied dryly, gesturing to her uniform.
Kamijou floundered for a moment, his dark eyes darting to the side as he desperately searched for the right words. His spiky black hair seemed to bounce slightly with the faint, nervous movements of his head, each gesture betraying his growing discomfort. The awkward pause stretched for a beat too long, making the tension in the air almost palpable as he visibly struggled to form a coherent response.
"Well… uh… Your breasts…" He stammered, his voice faltering as a deep blush crept up his neck, spreading rapidly across his face. His dark eyes darted anywhere but at Mikoto. "They… Uh… Look bigger… Eh, I mean… good! Good! They look good!" He blurted out, his words tumbling over each other in a flurry of increasing panic. "I mean… the Bust Upper! Yeah, using that was a good idea."
The words spilled out in an awkward, jumbled rush, his tone rising in pitch as if hoping sheer speed could compensate for the utter lack of finesse. He cringed almost immediately, his expression a mix of panic and regret as he realised what he had just blurted out.
"T-thanks." Mikoto said as her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her gaze darting to the side as she stammered.
Despite her embarrassment, Mikoto couldn't help but mentally pat herself on the back for her decision to use Bust Upper. The fleeting awkwardness of the situation did little to diminish the sense of satisfaction she felt. After all, the results spoke for themselves.
Not a bad choice at all. She thought smugly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she adjusted her posture. Her enhanced C-cup bust subtly rose as she straightened her blazer, the tailored fabric fitting snugly to accentuate the results of her decision. The attention to detail in her outfit, combined with the effects of the Bust Upper, added a refined yet unmistakable touch of femininity to her otherwise tomboyish figure.
However, Kamijou's sputtering continued unabated, each attempt to clarify his words only making his embarrassment more obvious. His awkward stammering, paired with his increasingly frantic hand gestures, made Mikoto cringe internally on his behalf. It was as though he was digging himself into a hole he didn't quite know how to escape, and the second-hand embarrassment was starting to feel almost unbearable.
"I mean… it's just… you look… great! Like, not just the Bust Upper! But… you know…" He stammered, his voice rising slightly with each failed attempt to articulate his thoughts. His words tumbled over one another in a chaotic rush, each phrase only making the situation more awkward as he unwittingly dug himself deeper with every syllable.
Mikoto sighed, the sound soft yet carrying a weight of equal parts exasperation and sympathy. She tilted her head slightly, her chestnut eyes narrowing as she debated whether to let him continue floundering or to step in and save him from himself. The faint upward twitch of her lips betrayed her amusement despite her best efforts to appear indifferent.
"Alright, alright, I get it." She interrupted finally, her tone shifting to a playful lilt as she decided to cut him some slack before he completely buried himself. Her chestnut eyes sparkled with a mix of teasing and irritation as she added, "Now, why the hell are you still wearing the same outfit? I mean, I have to follow the Tokiwadai Dress Code, but you don't. You could at least change your look a little!"
Kamijou's mood shifted abruptly, transitioning from sputtering nonsense to fixing her with a deadpan look. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting a blend of exhaustion and exasperation. His spiky black hair, slightly tousled from earlier events, only added to the impression of someone precariously balancing his patience. Yet, despite his exasperated demeanor, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his gaze betrayed that he wasn't entirely annoyed, his expression hovering on the edge of begrudging humour.
"This is what I was wearing when we fought that Kihara lady. You know, like, fifteen minutes ago! Where would I have had time to change?" He retorted, throwing his hands up briefly before gesturing to his high-collared blazer and white hoodie, the faint purple lining of the hood peeking out slightly. His voice carried a hint of incredulity, as if the idea of a wardrobe change in the middle of their chaotic day was the most absurd thing he'd heard.
Mikoto groaned, throwing up her hands in frustration. "That's not what I mean! You were wearing the same thing when we fought High Priest, too! Do you have only one winter outfit?"
Kamijou blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her comment, before his expression turned sheepish. He lifted a hand to scratch the back of his head, his spiky black hair shifting slightly with the motion. His dark eyes held a mixture of mild embarrassment and reluctant humour as he tried to formulate a response that wouldn't make him sound completely oblivious.
"Uh… I didn't even notice." He admitted with a nervous chuckle, his tone light but edged with a hint of self-consciousness. "I mean, I've got other outfits, of course, but I'm not exactly rich enough to afford that many of them," He added, his voice dropping to a muttered grumble. "Between feeding Index, Othinus, and Sphynx, I'm practically broke!"
The way he said it, with equal parts exasperation and resignation, painted a vivid picture of his day-to-day struggles, a life filled with constant demands and little room for luxuries. His tone carried the weight of someone who had long since accepted the chaos surrounding him, his words revealing a begrudging determination to shoulder the burdens placed on him. It left little doubt as to where his priorities lay, highlighting the selfless, albeit slightly haphazard, way he managed to care for those around him, even at his own expense.
Mikoto's blush deepened as guilt pricked at her, the heat rising to her cheeks as she realised how thoughtless her comment had been. She shifted slightly in her seat, her chestnut eyes darting away from his gaze. She hadn't considered how her remark might sound, especially given Kamijou's financial constraints, and now the sting of embarrassment mingled with a genuine sense of remorse.
"Sorry about that. I didn't mean to be rude." She murmured, her voice soft and tinged with sincerity. The usual sharpness in her tone was gone, replaced by a quieter vulnerability that made her apology feel earnest.
Kamijou waved off her apology with an easy smile, the tension in his posture easing as his relaxed demeanor returned. His dark eyes softened slightly, his earlier exasperation giving way to the familiar warmth that so often defined his interactions. It was clear he didn't hold any grudge, brushing the moment off as though it were nothing.
"Don't worry about it. It's fine." He said, his tone light and forgiving, carrying an air of casual reassurance that seemed to wipe away any lingering awkwardness. His words were easy, as though the exchange had already been forgotten, leaving no room for her to dwell on her misstep.
Their appetizers and drinks arrived then, carried by the server with the same polished professionalism they had come to expect. His movements were smooth and deliberate, each step exuding confidence as he approached their table.
"Your Caesar salad and lemon soda," he announced smoothly, setting Mikoto's plate and glass in front of her with care. Turning to Kamijou, he added, "And for you, the fried mozzarella sticks and iced tea. Enjoy your meals."
The enticing aroma of freshly prepared food filled the air as the server placed the final item on the table, offered a polite nod, and retreated with the same practiced grace. Mikoto and Kamijou exchanged a brief look, a silent understanding passing between them as they decided to set aside their conversation and focus on their meal.
Mikoto picked up her fork with measured composure, her chestnut eyes flicking toward her plate as she delicately began working on her Caesar salad. Every movement carried the refined polish that Tokiwadai had instilled in her, from the way she held her utensils to the straightness of her posture. It wasn't lost on her how different this was from Ruiko's casual elegance, the kind that seemed almost innate nowadays, as if her friend hadn't spent years imitating a machine. She pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the crisp freshness of her salad and the quiet comfort of the moment.
Kamijou, by contrast, wasted no time. He immediately reached for a fried mozzarella stick, the golden breading crunching audibly as he bit into it. The melted cheese stretched tantalizingly before he managed another bite, his dark eyes lighting up briefly with approval.
Both sipped their drinks - Mikoto's lemon soda and Kamijou's iced tea - the chilled beverages offering a refreshing counterpoint to the rich flavours of their appetisers. The brief silence at their table was comfortable, filled only with the faint clinks of utensils and the subtle hum of the upscale restaurant around them.
As they ate, the clinking of cutlery and the faint murmur of nearby diners provided a quiet backdrop. Kamijou's expression gradually shifted, his usual easygoing air giving way to a more pensive look. His dark eyes clouded slightly as his thoughts seemed to drift elsewhere, and after a brief pause, he eventually broke the silence.
"Is it really okay to just let Kihara Yuiitsu and Salome get away like that?" He asked, his dark eyes narrowing slightly with concern,
Mikoto paused mid-bite, her chestnut eyes meeting his with a calm assurance.
"It's fine." She replied, her tone measured. She set her fork down momentarily. "Ruiko's keeping an eye on them with her surveillance network. If we need to intervene, she'll let us know. For now, let's focus on lunch. We can worry about them afterwards."
Kamijou frowned, the crease between his brows deepening as he asked, "Shouldn't we be worrying afterwards, though? I mean…"
"I don't think so." Mikoto said confidently, shaking her head as her chestnut eyes met his with quiet assurance. Her expression remained unwavering, her tone firm yet reassuring. "If it were urgent, Ruiko wouldn't be so calm about things, let alone forcing you to treat me to lunch. She'd be calling us to act, not letting us sit here and relax.
As if on cue, Ruiko's voice whispered into their ears, soft but clear, delivered through her audiokinesis. The faintest hint of amusement laced her tone, cutting through the tension. "Don't worry, you two. Salome's already been captured by elements of the Kamisato Faction, so she's their problem now, not ours. As for Kihara Yuiitsu, she's gone to ground. With her Sample Shoggoth unable to create fake Magic Gods, at least for now, she'll probably retreat to engineer a new weapon for her vengeance. Until then, she's not an immediate threat."
"Why don't we just hunt her down and arrest her before she can pull something else?" Kamijou asked with a sigh, running a hand through his spiky black hair, his frustration evident.
"We don't have the authority to arrest her." Ruiko replied, her tone shifting to a more serious edge. Her usual lightheartedness gave way to a calm but firm practicality as she continued, "Any charges we try to bring against her, she can easily squash with her connections, even with Kaa-san's influence as a Director on our side. And those same connections make tracking her down incredibly difficult. I'll try, but don't expect miracles."
Kamijou sighed again, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. "I hate just sitting around and waiting for the enemy to strike, especially when we know she's out there, planning something."
"It's just the way things are." Mikoto replied, shrugging lightly as a hint of resignation crept into her tone. Her chestnut eyes softened slightly, reflecting a mix of acceptance and practicality. "We can't control everything, even if we want to. Sometimes, we just have to let things play out and deal with them when the time comes."
As they finished their appetizers, a server appeared almost like clockwork, his timing impeccable as if he had been silently observing from a distance. His polite smile added a touch of warmth to his professional demeanor as he approached their table with quiet confidence, ensuring that his presence did not disrupt the relaxed atmosphere of their meal.
"May I clear these for you?" He asked in a courteous tone, his voice low and unobtrusive, paired with an expression that radiated calm professionalism.
Receiving a nod of permission from both of them, he deftly cleared their plates with practiced efficiency. His movements were smooth and precise, the quiet clink of dishes barely audible as he worked. Moments later, he returned with their main courses, presenting the dishes with an effortless grace that spoke volumes about his training and experience. Mikoto glanced at the sirloin steak on her plate, its perfectly seared surface glistening slightly under the soft glow of the ambient lighting. She inhaled deeply, taking in the rich aroma that wafted up from the dish, her mouth watering at the enticing scent. The server offered a slight bow before quietly retreating, leaving them to enjoy their meal undisturbed.
Kamijou wasted no time digging into his ribeye. After his first mouthful, he made an appreciative noise, his dark eyes briefly closing as if savouring the moment. Mikoto shot him an exasperated look, her chestnut eyes narrowing slightly as she set down her fork.
"This is a fine dining restaurant." She reminded him, her tone sharp but tinged with amusement. "Mind your manners."
"But the food is so good!" Kamijou countered, his enthusiasm breaking through any attempt at decorum.
"It is." She admitted with a sigh and nod. "Surprisingly good, actually."
She wasn't even lying. Tokiwadai's cafeteria prided itself on employing some of the best chefs money could buy, and yet the Caesar salad she had just finished measured up impressively well. The crisp lettuce, perfectly balanced dressing, and freshly grated parmesan had left her pleasantly surprised. As she took her first bite of her steak, the tender, flavorful meat practically melted in her mouth, further reinforcing her assessment. It was clear this steakhouse lived up to the high standards it tried to project, offering a dining experience that even a Tokiwadai student could appreciate.
For a while, they ate in silence, the occasional clink of utensils on plates the only sound between them. Eventually, Kamijou broke the quiet, his tone casual but curious. "Hey, did you hear that Adelise Canopy, the boss of ReGenesis Solutions, is coming to visit the City?"
Mikoto glanced at him and nodded. "Yeah, Ruiko mentioned that. The demon bug lady's visiting."
"Demon bug lady?" Kamijou asked with a raised eyebrow, pausing mid-cut.
Mikoto waved her hand dismissively, her chestnut eyes flashing with a mix of irritation and mirth. "If you know, you know. If you don't, you don't need to."
Kamijou frowned but let it go, mumbling. "I guess I should stay out of other people's business then…"
"Yes, you should." Mikoto agreed with a smirk before tilting her head curiously. "Why did the visit of a random CEO catch your attention anyway?"
Kamijou shrugged, his spiky black hair shifting slightly. "I'm in the hospital a lot, so I pay attention to medical stuff. You know, just in case there's anything new that might help me recover faster from all the injuries I keep getting. I heard about ReGenesis because of that."
Mikoto nodded in understanding, setting her fork down momentarily. "Isn't Heaven Canceler's healing good enough?"
"Of course it is." Kamijou replied quickly, leaning back slightly in his chair. "But every little bit helps, right?"
"Fair enough." Mikoto conceded. "So, what about ReGenesis' products interests you?"
"The cloned limbs and organs, mostly." Kamijou admitted, glancing at her as he spoke. "Heaven Canceler-sensei's healing is amazing, but he can't regrow limbs. And let's be honest, it's probably only a matter of time before I lose something other than my right arm, which can somehow regrow itself, and I might need it replaced."
Mikoto snorted softly, shaking her head. "That makes sense. But I hope you won't need it."
Kamijou smiled faintly, his dark eyes softening. "Yeah, me too."
With the conversation drifting to a close, they both returned to their meals. The rich flavours of their perfectly cooked steaks were complemented by the quiet comfort of their shared company. For the moment, the chaos of their lives was forgotten, and they simply savoured the food and the rare peace between them.
As they finished their main courses, the attentive wait staff approached with impeccable timing and in a warm and professional tone, inquired. "May I clear these for you?"
"Yes, thank you." Mikoto replied as she glanced up and offered the server a small smile and a polite nod.
The staff moved efficiently, swiftly clearing the empty dishes before disappearing momentarily. Moments later, they returned with their desserts, presenting them with the same practiced grace. Mikoto eyed the strawberry shortcake placed before her, the vibrant red berries glistening atop the delicately layered cake, its sweet aroma already tempting her. Kamijou's chocolate lava cake sat enticingly on its pristine white plate, the rich molten centre practically oozing decadence. They had just begun to dig in when a loud, feline-like growl from the direction of the door suddenly cut through the ambient murmur of the restaurant, drawing the attention of several patrons.
Kamijou stiffened instantly, his fork hovering mid-air as his face lost all colour. His dark eyes widened slightly, darting toward the source of the sound with a mixture of alarm and dread. The tension in his posture was palpable, as though he was bracing himself for whatever, or whoever, was about to appear.
Mikoto quirked an eyebrow at Kamijou's sudden change in demeanor, her curiosity piqued by his uncharacteristic reaction. She turned her chestnut eyes toward the door, following his gaze. Striding into the restaurant with unmistakable purpose was none other than his roommate, Index Librorum Prohibitorum. Small in stature but brimming with fiery determination, Index's thigh-length silver hair framed her pale face, while her large green eyes blazed with annoyance. The swish of her nun's habit, haphazardly held together by safety pins, accentuated each determined step as she closed the distance to their table with surprising speed. Her presence radiated indignation, and Mikoto could already tell this encounter would be anything but quiet.
Kamijou sputtered, his voice cracking as he stammered, "I-Index-san-"
The petite nun cut him off sharply, her green eyes narrowing with fiery intensity as she jabbed a finger toward him, her movements sharp and accusatory. Her small stature did little to diminish the commanding presence she exuded, and the force behind her gesture was enough to make Kamijou instinctively lean back, as though bracing for an incoming tirade.
"What do you think you're doing here, Touma? Having lunch with Short Hair when you should be preparing lunch for me and Othinus!" she demanded, her voice rising with indignation. The sharpness in her tone drew a few curious glances from nearby tables, the previously relaxed atmosphere of the steakhouse now tinged with awkward tension as the nun's accusation hung in the air.
Kamijou tried to stammer out an apology, his spiky black hair seeming to droop slightly under her intense glare. "I-I was just-"
"Don't give me that!" Index interrupted, her voice filled with righteous indignation. "If you wanted to have lunch with a friend, you could've at least called instead of leaving us hanging!"
She looked set to continue her tirade, her petite frame practically vibrating with fury, her silver hair swaying with each emphatic movement. Her green eyes blazed with righteous indignation, and her fists clenched at her sides as if preparing for another verbal barrage. Just as she drew in a sharp breath to unleash her next volley, Naru and Ruiko materialized behind her, their Tokiwadai uniforms pristine, exuding an air of effortless composure. The stark contrast between the nun's fiery demeanor and the newcomers' calm presence was almost comical.
Naru wasted no time, stepping forward with purpose, her long blonde pigtails bouncing with each light step. Her sharp cerulean eyes sparkled with mischief as she closed the distance. Without breaking stride, she smirked and wrapped an arm around Index-san's shoulders in a loose but surprisingly effective chokehold. The move, playful yet firm, left Index momentarily stunned, her indignant protests muffled as she squirmed in vain against the hold.
"We'll handle this party pooper." Naru said breezily, her tone as casual as if she were discussing the weather. Her sharp cerulean eyes twinkled with amusement, clearly enjoying the interruption as much as the chance to defuse it. With a wink in Mikoto's direction, she teleported away with the struggling nun before another word could be uttered, leaving behind an awkward silence that was almost immediately followed by a collective exhale of relief from the surrounding diners.
Ruiko, who had stayed behind, performed a graceful curtsy, her toned, hourglass figure moving with the practiced elegance of a true ojou-sama. She lightly grasped the edges of her checkered blue skirt, dipping slightly while keeping her posture poised and composed. Her long black hair, adorned with its signature small white flower hair clip, swayed gently with the motion as her serene blue eyes softened. She regarded Mikoto and Kamijou with a blend of quiet warmth, her expression reassuring as though silently promising to handle the chaos left in Index-san's wake.
She really commits to the role. Mikoto thought wryly as she shook her head in fond exasperation, a small smile tugging at her lips. It was so like Ruiko to maintain her impeccable ojou-sama demeanor even in the most absurd situations.
"Please enjoy your dessert." Ruiko said warmly, her voice steady and polite. With a final nod, she vanished in another teleport, leaving behind a lingering sense of calm in her wake.
Mikoto sighed, her chestnut eyes glancing briefly at the empty space where Ruiko had stood moments before. She rested her fork against the edge of her plate, her posture relaxing slightly as she tried to shake off the remnants of tension from the encounter.
"Those two…" She muttered under her breath, her voice carrying a mix of exasperation and affection. Turning back to Kamijou, she gestured toward their untouched desserts with a subtle tilt of her head. "We might as well not let their effort go to waste. Let's enjoy this, like Ruiko said."
Kamijou hesitated for a moment, his dark eyes still wide from the earlier commotion. He glanced toward the door as if expecting another interruption, but as the seconds passed in relative quiet, his shoulders relaxed slightly. A faint, sheepish smile broke through the tension on his face.
"Yeah, good idea." He agreed, his voice finally regaining its usual casual tone.
With that, they both turned their attention back to their desserts. Mikoto savored the sweet tang of the strawberries and the creamy richness of the shortcake, while Kamijou let out an audible hum of approval as he dug into the molten centre of his chocolate lava cake. The rich flavors filled the silence between them, each bite a small reprieve from the chaos that usually surrounded their lives. For a rare moment, they shared a fleeting sense of peace, the kind that came from simply enjoying each other's company amidst the calm after the storm.
Done and done! Thanks to Nameless as always!
Magical Girl Mahou Raiden, Mikoto! Man having a jealous magical sword is both a boon and a curse huh? Still, seeing her go all lightning samurai was just awesome! I mean magical sword or numerous guns? Magic sword because chuuni fun!
Nameless: So… Some of you might be wondering why Ruiko is suddenly seemingly investing in anything and everything. Well, think back to the Jailbreaker arc and just how much money she has to spend. She's got to find something to spend it on. ;)
Well they do own a big company or technically they do through her mom. Again, all the girls got a lot of cash for life. As long as they live.
Nameless: On another note, I hope you guys liked our take on Kihara Yuiitsu's powers in this arc. We know it isn't exactly canon accurate but we wanted to keep things interesting. If you'd be so kind, please let us know whether you enjoyed our take on things. Or the fight and the arc in general, we would really like to know.
And of course the Kihara of this arc reminded me of Chaos from Fate. But what she has going on was nuts. I mean her slimefake magic gods? Super creepy. Girl needs a hobby.
You know what to do! Smash that review button and tell us what you love! No flames and peace off my peeps!